Autumn Rituals
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: Complete. It's the Fall of 2005. Joan, Luke, and Grace each receive divine missions which are to challenge their way of life.
1. What I Did this Summer

**AUTUMN RITUALS**

_(Author's Note: This is basically a season 3 story, with multiple storylines set during the Fall of 2005. I have covered the intervening summer in other stories: REVELATION OF JOAN, RURAL ARCADIA, and LOVE AND HONOR, which are basically summed up in the first chapter. _

_I would like to give credit to LostSchizophrenic for comments and improvements throughout the writing of the story._

_I own no rights in JOA. My only motive in writing the story here is to have fun and hopefully share it. And I hope that other Season 3 writers do not mind sharing the territory)_

**Chapter 1 What I did this summer**

As Joan approached Baltimore/Washington airport, where she was to pick up her brother and Grace from their vacation, she saw a large jet zoom in for a landing. There was a time earlier when it would have awed her: the size, the speed, the amount of ground required to accommodate it. But now she knew of a much more powerful Entity, which made its effects with a still, small voice, and airplanes didn't fascinate her anymore.

Security arrangements kept her from going to the gate, of course, so she stayed on the visitors' side of the barrier, waving when she finally spotted the pair. As they walked up, Joan gave her brother a hug then turned to Grace, who shied back as if fearing a similar attention. Then Grace reconsidered and gave Joan a peck on the cheek. It was the first time the two friends had actually kissed.

"Wow, you're in a sentimental mood today," said Luke. "Usually it's more a matter of 'Hey, dork'."

"I can't help it," said Joan. "I feel wonderful. Adam and I are back together, and I got some advice about my future. I'll tell you when we get back to the car."

Ordinarily the others would have pressed her for details. But the three were in on a big secret, one that couldn't be discussed in the midst of a crowd where anybody could overhear. So they kept silence until they were in the car. Luke and Grace both got in the back seat. That made Joan feel like a chauffeur, which she didn't like, but she supposed that their real motive was to cuddle up to each other, so she didn't complain.

"Rove?" prompted Grace.

"Yeah, we reconciled just two days ago."

"So Bonnie's out of the picture?" asked Luke.

"Not really. She's living with the Roves, until she has her baby--."

"Baby! Rove's gonna be a father?"

"No, no. Some jerk from the local college knocked her up. He wouldn't give her any support except money, and even getting that was like pulling teeth. Her parents threw her out, so Adam agreed to take her in, even though he knew that it would create a lot of nasty rumors. When I found that out, I thought he had behaved really decently, and deserved a second chance."

She did NOT mention her side of the reconciliation. Knowing that Adam's sexual longing for her had been part of the original problem, Joan had promised to consummate the relationship before the school year was out. Adam said he wouldn't hold her to that, and the other two didn't have to know. "So how was the vacation? I know that you couldn't say everything in your emails. Did you see You-Know-Who?" After two years, God had decided to let Grace and Luke into the secret, and it was a great relief to Joan to be able to talk to them about it openly.

"Yeah," said Grace. "That's the weird thing. She was there all the time, disguised as a cowgirl, and never broke character. Even shoveled manure around when she could have just zapped it away."

"I wish she had zapped it away," said Luke. "That stuff stank."

"You said stinks were subjective--." Apparently this was an old argument.

"Chill, you two," commanded Joan. "So what did God say?"

"He persuaded me that I should change my scientific focus," said Luke. "The life sciences are going to be more important. Eliminating pollution, recycling resources, preventive medicine. I'm going to start by signing up for AP Biology this fall. I wonder who's teaching it? Lischak again?"

"Probably. I guess I'll sign up too. At least she's entertaining. But, what about you, Grace? Did She give you a mission?"

"Um, she persuaded me to learn how to ride a horse. Said it would make a crucial difference in a future crisis. I suppose somebody getting lost in a big area, like Rove did, and a horse could reach areas that a vehicle couldn't."

"That's it?" Divine missions were rarely that straightforward.

"Yeah."

Joan had the feeling that Grace was holding back information, but decided to respect the girl's privacy. Grace had done the same for her at an awkward moment last spring.

"What's this about advice about your future?" asked Luke, apparently trying to change the subject.

"Oh, that. Remember the judge who observed our Mock Trial last spring? She popped up again last week, and said that I had a knack for lawyering. I'm going to take Law this fall, too."

"It's nice for you to get noticed," said Grace, "but you know my opinion of the law."

"Yeah. Afterward Old Lady God appeared. She said to take the course but keep an open mind. Quoted an old rabbi that being nice to people was the real law, 'all the rest is commentary'."

"Hillel," identified Grace, who had been studying her Jewish heritage during the year. "He was a contemporary of Jesus, who said the same thing in other words."

The three discussed their unusual calling for the rest of the car trip back to Arcadia. As they passed the city limits, Joan remembered one more question.

"That's something else I need to ask about before we see our parents. You guys were together under one roof for two weeks, without parents around. Did you--?"

"No," said Grace firmly. "Drop the subject, Girardi."

Joan dropped it.

Grace persuaded her to go to the Girardi house first. As the parents made a sentimental fuss over Luke's return, Grace looked wistful. Apparently things were still awkward at her house, where her mother was recovering from years of alcoholism.

"By the way, Luke, this letter came for you," said their mother.   
"From the Arcadia Board of Education. We were holding it for you." She was clearly dying to know what was in it.

Luke opened the letter and scanned the contents. "Awesome!"

"What is it?" asked Will.

"It says that in view of my A.P. credits, high grade point average, and 'general excellence', they've given me special permission to jump a grade. I'm a senior, just like you guys!"

"That's cool," said Grace, though Luke could tell she was more enthused about it than she was letting on. "Now I won't have to explain why I'm dating a junior, if anybody finds out," she added under her breath.

"That's terrible!" said Joan, wrapped in her own reaction. "When people see my baby brother in my grade, they'll think I've been kept back a year. Eeeeeeeeeeeww!"


	2. Back to School Special

**Chapter 2 Back to School Special**

On the first day of school, Luke, Joan, and Grace decided to walk to school together to school. Even if it required Grace to add an extra leg to the journey, it seemed a good idea: an opportunity to talk without being overheard either at home or school. But Grace spotted a problem about the general strategy.

"If Rove knows that the three of us are walking without him, he'll feel left out," she observed. "And if we include him, we can't talk about the secret."

"Unless we let him into it," pointed out Luke, "Joan's considered that before."

"Yeah, but things are different now," said Joan gloomily. "Before, it was just me. But how will he feel when he learns that his three best friends have a relationship with God and he doesn't?"

"Maybe God will let him in," mused Grace. "Maybe all the good he's doing for Bonnie is a sort of test. Like when I visited him yesterday, he was persuading her not to skip her final year of school, at least until she gets too big to manage it. He's being very thoughtful for a girl who's basically a pest. I hope God's impressed."

They pinned their hopes on that, and dropped the subject.

On arriving at school, Joan and Grace stopped by a restroom to make sure that the long walk hadn't mussed their hair. Joan was intrigued and more than a little shocked to notice that Grace even cared. As they looked in the mirror they noticed the reflection of a third girl, in a skimpy cheerleader outfit.

"Hi, Joan, Grace."

"Do we know you?" asked Grace predictably.

"Yeah," Joan said resignedly. "Grace, meet Cheerleader God. Look, Cheery, do we have to go on a mission today? Everything's so hectic on the first day of school."

"Everything IS hectic," agreed the Cheerleader. "Be on the lookout for people needing help."

"That's the mission?" Joan asked.

The Cheerleader nodded and turned to go, but Grace called out:

"Wait. God visits restrooms?"

"Locationally, yes. Biologically, no." She waved her baton at them and exited. But having got that crack in seemed to cheer up Grace.

----

There had been a time when Joan would have tuned out Law, listening just enough to pass the course. Mr. Harbison, a small, balding man, was not an impressive speaker. Friedman had rudely compared him to an alien on STAR TREK. But Joan understood now that she was being prepared for something great, for which an understanding of law would be necessary.

None of her immediate friends had decided to take the class, though Joan did spot Glynis sitting in the back of the room.

"Three and a half centuries ago," said Harbison. "The philosopher Thomas Hobbes wrote that without the benefits of law, man's life was 'nasty, brutal, and short'. Hobbes' own solution was a dictator or absolute monarch; he had Louis XIV in mind. But in the centuries since we have learnt that the whims of a dictator, changing when the ruler does, are too unstable to support a civilization. Better to have an abstract system that lasts across generations. In America, the system is called Common Law--"

Listening to the teacher, Joan realized that her father had the same ideals. Will Girardi didn't believe in a God, but he needed something beyond himself to believe in, and for him that was Law, a system of right and wrong that transcended the individual.

These elevated sentiments were still in Joan's mind as she walked through the school corridors after class, and came across a tableau that definitely qualified as "nasty and brutal".

A boy was slumped against one wall in pain, holding his crotch. A few feet away, two other boys were holding a struggling Grace Polk by the arms. Beyond them a dark-skinned girl was kneeling on the floor picking something up; Joan couldn't tell if she was involved or not. Beyond the girl was a crowd of students, basically doing nothing but enjoying the fight.

Joan had no experience fighting, and didn't know what this one was about. One thing was clear: Grace was in danger. So she ran up and walloped the nearest boy on the side of his head.

The boy dropped his hold on Grace's arm, and she instantly spun around and planted her fist in the stomach of the third boy. He gasped and released her as well, and Grace backed up to Joan's side. The three boys glared at them with hatred, then ran. The reason for their flight became clear when Joan heard a voice behind her.

"Brawling in the halls, and on the first day? All of you, to my office immediately!"

Vice-Principal Price.

Senior Year was off to an _awesome_ start.

TBC


	3. Building a Bridge

**Chapter 3 Building a Bridge**

_(Author's Note: The quote from Luke about Grace's hostility took place in one of my earlier stories, RURAL ARCADIA)_

Price spoke into his cell phone as the three girls followed him. When they reached his office, they found the Principal sitting in the corner. Usually he left day-to-day operations to Price, especially the disciplinary type duties.

Grace was used to being in trouble, but the other two girls looked terrified. Joan's problem was probably not with Price, but fear of how her parents would react to her getting in trouble on day one. And the foreign girl, who had replaced the scarf over her hair, had been dragged into a disciplinary system of which she probably had no experience. She might actually be afraid that they were all going to be flogged or something. Grace felt obliged to speak up without being prompted.

"This girl didn't do anything wrong. Some racist, small-minded pigs were picking on her."

"Is that true, Ms…?" demanded Price. The Principal seemed to content to be an observer at this point.

"Yes, sir," the girl responded quietly, her voice subdued, respectful, but she didn't look away or blush at his brisk manner. She had an accent with a British tinge, the latter probably derived from her English teacher. "Some boys made rude remarks about my scarf and asked if I was bald under it. I explained that I wore it for religious reasons, but they continued to make jokes, and one of them snatched it off. Then, that girl struck him."

"I kicked him in the balls," said Grace with a hint of pride and satisfaction.

"Watch your language, Miss Polk," ordered Price.

"Oh, should I have said testicles? Or private parts? Being a girl, I don't know what guys call them when they're being refined."

Price seemed to give up on Grace. "What about you, Miss Girardi?"

"I saw Grace in trouble, at least two against one. That was enough for me."

"Hmmph. I'd say half a week suspension for you two--"

"Half a week! The first week of the year!" cried Joan. "We'll never catch up."

"I didn't catch the first girl's name," said the Principal suddenly.

"I am Morgiana Begh."

"Daughter of the new Islamic Studies professor at the college?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your father asked for assurances of your safety, given the war and heightened emotions about Muslims. We agreed to look into it. What have you done in response, Price?" the Principal asked the other man.

"I, um, agreed to increase the number of hall monitors by the end of the week," Price assured hurriedly, his arrogance turned into embarrassment at his oversight.

"And in the meantime, these girls have been doing your job for you. And just what happened to these poor young men who violate girls' religious possessions? Why aren't they here?" the Principal continued, his tone stern.

"They weren't there when I arrived," Price murmured hastily.

Grace was tempted to remark that they shouldn't be hard to find: look for three boys who seemed to be pained in the crotch, stomach, and ear

respectively. But she kept her mouth shut.

"So they can't very well complain how we handle the matter. Miss Polk, Miss Girardi, you may go. I'll let it slide this time, but try not to let this happen again," the Principal said, his voice firm, but not angry. "Mr. Price, I think you owe a phone call to Professor Begh. Miss Begh, will you stay and talk to him?"

Joan and Grace hurried out, then burst out laughing. "I don't know whether our friend up there had something to do with that, but thank God anyway," said Grace.

"Yeah. The look on Price's face when his boss started in with the questions. Too bad Mom doesn't work here this year; she'd have loved to see Price taken down a peg." She looked at Grace curiously, "Where did you learn to kick ass like that?"

"I just made up my mind to learn self-defense after Luke and I were beaten up during last year's election. That's not much subtlety to my style. Just learn the sensitive parts and aim for them. The solar plexis works for either sex, and for boys--"

"Right," Joan said hastily.

The girls separated to get to their next classes, which of course they had already missed part of. When they rejoined, Joan said she'd skip lunch; she wanted to look for Adam. So Grace went to the cafeteria alone.

---

The lunch-room was nearly full, but nobody was sitting at Morgiana's table: one girl in a Muslim scarf and four empty chairs. Grace doubted that there was an accident. She maneuvered herself there, not so much because she wanted Morgiana's company but because she would have room to sit. "May I?"

"May you what?" the girl asked confused for a moment before she realized. She nodded, "Oh, yes, sit down."

Grace sat, and watched as Morgiana picked at her food. "Is something wrong?"

"I do not recognize this meat," Morgiana said, looking at it distrustfully.

Grace laughed. "That's not unusual with school food."

"I must make sure that there is no swine meat mixed in. It is taboo in my religion."

"Don't worry, I've been assured that it's kosher, and I've heard Jews and Moslems follow the same dietary laws. Though I don't always keep them myself," Grace said with a smirk.

Morgiana looked shocked, "You are a Jew?"

Oh, great. Great going, Polk! She shoved the self-depreciating comments aside and asked, "Surprised?"

"You do not look J--"

"That's an old joke, and not very nice," Grace interrupted.

"I mean, you are blonde. In most pictures I have seen, Jews have dark hair."

"Pictures?" Grace asked, eyebrows raised.

"There are no Jews in my village in Turkey," Morgiana explained.

"Not welcome there, I presume," Grace said, her voice holding an edge.

Tears appeared in Morgiana's eyes at Grace's harsh tone, "Forgive me. I am grateful for your help and want to be nice, but I keep saying the wrong things. I do not understand."

A pang of guilt shot through Grace, something she seldom experienced. She remembered Luke's loving but frank rebuke from a few weeks ago, the thing that she was too embarrassed to repeat to Joan: _you have trouble relating to people. There are a few people that you love and care for -- me, Joan, Adam. Otherwise you usually don't care what people think, and push them away_. Most of the people Grace dealt with were jerks and deserved to be pushed away. But Morgiana did not deserve thatEven if her village had a history of anti-Semitism, that was scarcely Morgiana's fault, any more than the bullies' behavior was Grace's.

"No, Morgiana, it's not you, it's me. I tend to be a smart-ass, even when it's not necessary," Grace said, her voice taking on a different tone—one of apology. Not one she usually used—in fact, she'd once told Joan that she didn't apologize. But that was eighteen months ago.

"You should not compare yourself to a beast," Morgiana said with a slight frown.

"What?" Grace asked, confused for a split second before she caught on, "Oh." Morgiana thought a smart ass was a reference to a donkey; how could Grace explain that she was actually comparing herself to a rear end? Grace managed not to smirk or laugh at the misunderstood phrase, and hoped her smile would be regarded as a friendly gesture. "Let's start over."

"I would like that. Would you pay me a visit at home?"

Grace frowned, slightly unsure. Usually she didn't mind flouting convention, but this could be going a bit far-even for her. She saw that Morgiana didn't hold her religion against her, but what of her parents? She didn't want to walk into a situation that would be uncomfortable for all involved. A Jew visiting a Muslim from the Middle East? "Will I be welcome there?"

"Oh, yes. My father will want to meet young Americans. He has been hired by the local university to explain Muslim culture to Americans, and to explain Americans back home. He may even want to ask you about Jews in America. It will help him in his teaching."

It might be awkward, but no overt hostility apparently. "Give me a couple of days."

"Wednesday? I will write my address," Morgiana asked.

That would give Grace time to decide whether or not it would be a good idea.

TBC


	4. Biological Processes

**Chapter 4 Biological Processes**

If A.P. Law was a new experience, A.P. Biology was like déjà vu. The same two-chair tables forcing the students into pairs. Friedmann and Glynis were sitting directly in front of Joan, Adam was sharing her table, and Grace and Luke were to her right. In charge was Ms. Lischak, as hystrionic as usual.

"Today, class, we will start to participate in a venerable tradition! Dissecting frogs!"

There was a collective groan.

"Don't feel that way! The field of biology stagnated during the whole Middle Ages, because people would read Galen's description of a frog's innards instead of taking a peak themselves. Only with dissections in the Renaissance could the field revive. Leonardo da Vinci alone did a dozen dissections of human corpses, and said that it not only helped his scientific knowledge but his painting. Did you say something, Miss Polk?"

Grace looked a little flustered. "I just said that I'm glad he put Mona Lisa's skin back before he painted her."

The class burst out laughing at that. Even Lischak looked more amused than annoyed; probably she was memorizing that joke for a future lecture. "Mr. Girardi, will you fetch the supplies from the biology closet? You are familiar with its layout."

"Um, yes," said Luke, looking awkward. His sister and friends knew that he and Grace used the biology closet as a secret meeting place; he was probably trying to figure out how much Ms. Lischak knew.

As they distributed the specimens, Glynis sniffed at the one put before her. "What's that smell?"

"Formaldahyde, to preserve them. If we had not used it, the frogs would have decomposed by now, and smell even worse."

"Ugh, I don't even want to think about it," said Glynis.

Joan reluctantly contemplated her own specimen, and poked at it at Ms. Lischak's dictation, figuring that she would probably better at this than Adam. Suddenly Glynis pulled back from her frog.

"Ack! I can't-- can't --" she choked, then threw up on the floor.

That got everybody's attention off of the frogs. Glynis ran out, her hands on her mouth and stomach.

"Ahem!" said Ms. Lishak, finally recovering from her surprise. "Mr. Rove, would you seek out a janitor, and tell him we have a cleanup job?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, going out.

"May I be excused to see if Glynis is all right?" asked Joan. _Be on the lookout for people needing help, _and besides Glynis was a sort-of friend. Ms. Lischak nodded, and Joan went out to look. It was fairly clear that little dissection was going to take place today.

The closest restroom Joan tried was empty, this being the middle of a class period. But Glynis may not have remembered which was closest. In the next one she tried there was a stall door bolted, and the sound of a girl crying.

"Is that you, Glynis? Are you all right?"

"I'm doomed!" wailed Glynis from inside. "After all I've done over the years to make a good impression on everybody in school, all ruined in one afternoon."

"Because you threw up? Anybody could do that. I was feeling a bit nauseated myself, breathing the foam-of-the-hide stuff."

"Formaldehyde. But it's not that," said Glynis. She unbolted the door and emerged, looking around to see if there was anybody there but Joan. "Can you keep a secret? I need to tell a girl."

"Yes."

"I think I may be pregnant."

"WHAT! How?"

"How do you think?" said Glynis with a squeak. Her speech was normally rather breathless; today she seemed on the verge of hysteria. "The usual way. But we only did it once!"

"Friedmann?"

"Of course. Think I'd let some other jerk touch me?"

"No, he's the only jerk I could think of. But have you had a test?"

"No. I don't want to know."

"Glynis, get a grip on yourself." Joan grasped her arms herself, for emphasis. "Glynis Figliola, science girl, not wanting to know something? That's not you. Maybe the test will be negative, and you can stop worrying. Women have misjudged their reactions before." It had happened to Joan's mother a couple of years ago, though Joan was not going to mention something that personal.

The hallway door opened, and Joan hurriedly released her hold on Glynis's arms. A couple ago there had been a brief flurry of rumors about Joan having a lesbian relationship with Grace; the last thing Joan needed was a revival of that. The newcomer gave them an odd look and disappeared into a stall. "Do you know my bookstore? We'll talk there."

Glynis nodded.

----

Waiting for Glynis in the store, Joan brooded. This was Wednesday, the day Grace was supposed to visit the Muslim family, at a time that their faiths were warring on the other side of the world. Joan hoped that she would be all right. Luke had offered to go with her, but Grace had turned him down. She didn't know of the family's hospitality customs, and it might be a bad idea to bring a strange, infidel boy to a girl's house uninvited. Joan told herself that God would protect Grace during a mission, but God's idea of protection was sometimes weird. Joan vividly remembered getting stuck in a junkyard once with a crazy boy with a gun.

The bell from the bookstore door tingled, and Glynis whizzed in with a package in her arms. "I've got a pregnancy kit. Where's the restroom?" she asked breathlessly.

Joan pointed her in the proper direction, and Glynis dashed in, leaving Joan alone again. So Joan's current mission was advising a hysterical Glynis, and Grace's was befriending a Muslim girl. They hadn't heard yet what Luke's mission was yet, but it would probably be pretty heavy.

Glynis came out. "It's positive! I'm really pregnant! Oh, this is horrible! Horrible!" She sat down at Joan's work table and starting crying.

Joan prudently moved her book cart to block the view of Glynis from the door and protect her privacy; the bell would tell her if anybody came. Then she tried to think of something comforting to say. "Glynis, having a baby isn't the end of the world."

"It'll be the end of my world. I won't make it to graduation. How can I balance college and a baby? And for months earlier I'll be walking around school looking like a balloon. People who have never noticed me before will point at me and say, There's Glynis, the fat old cow'. I might as well wear a sign saying 'I've done something stupid.'" To Glynis, being considered stupid was apparently the ultimate degradation. Suddenly Glynis jerked upward. "I'm going to get rid of it."

"Wait, Glynis. Maybe this isn't my business, but you asked my opinion. Right now you're feeling sick and you've had a big shock. Don't do anything you might regret later. Wait a few days, until you're thinking more clearly. A few days delay won't make a difference, legally or medically."

Glynis pondered it. Joan had gambled that the brainy girl took pride in "thinking clearly" and would be aware of her own current mood swings.

"Right. My mind's in a whirl -- and that in itself is scary. I thought I had my life all planned out -- graduation with honors, a prestigious college, a job in the sciences. But now there's this THING growing inside me, taking over my body and my life. What do I tell my parents? They've always been so proud of me! How do I break the news to Friedmann? But they're not insoluble problems, like Unified Field Theory. I've got to calm down and think. I'll wait. Thanks, Joan." She gave a Joan a hug -- something she had never done before -- and dashed out.

Joan stared at the pregnancy kit, wondering what to do with it. She remembered the wild conclusions Luke had jumped to on finding one at the house two years ago: he thought Joan had gotten herself knocked up. Sammy might wonder the same thing if he should happen to show up (not too likely) and found the kit in the trashcan. Joan should probably dispose of it in some anonymous dumpster on the way home.

That problem was minor compared to what Glynis was going through in the next few months. And it appeared that Joan was going to go through it with her.


	5. Consulting the Expert

**Chapter 5 In the Tents of the Enemy**

The address Morgiana had given Grace was about a mile out of town, on a road that Grace was not familiar with. Given what new professors usually earned, she expected something modest, maybe a rented cottage. Instead she found an impressive Moorish-style estate, surrounded with lots of land.

There was a paved area in front for parking: lots of space but only one car at the moment. As Grace got out, she heard the sound of hoofbeats, which instantly reminded her of her riding lessons at the farm. Looking in the proper direction, she saw Morgiana galloping toward her on a splendid horse. She looked completely different from the frightened immigrant in school, and the reason was obvious. There she was literally in alien territory; here she was safe at home -- and probably enjoyed her home more than Grace enjoyed hers. Although Grace's mother was on the mend from alcoholism, it was difficult to overcome bitter memories.

Morgiana reined in her horse. Grace noted that her hair was somewhat mussed by the wind: she was no longer wearing her scarf, perhaps since there were no boys around. "Hello, Grace. Would you like to go riding? We have extra horses."

"Um, thanks, but I'm out of practice." The truth was that Grace had only ridden one horse in her life, which had probably been created by God for the purpose. Mounted on a strange horse, she would be so self-conscious about her riding that she would be unable to concentrate on conversation. Grace hated looking weak, and she loved dominating a conversation.

"All right." Morgiana patted her steed's neck. "I will take Rakush to the stable and come right back."

She rode off and Grace looked over the house again. Remembering that the professor had just arrived in the country, she doubted that it had been built for the purpose. He had probably found it available on the market and liked the "Moorish" look. It also implied that he was loaded.

When Morgiana came back from around the corner of the house, Grace characteristically said the first thing that came into her mind. "Your must be rich."

She shrugged. "Begh used to be a title of nobility in the Ottoman Empire. We lost the status under Attaturk, but were able to hold on the wealth. During the past century we maintained our fortune by breeding horses."

Grace was wishing that she had paid more attention to History class, if "Ottoman Empire" and "Attaturk" had even come up. She HAD looked up Turkey on the Internet, and had been relieved to read that the country was seeking closer relations with the West and tried to distance itself from the violent struggles of its neighbors. As for the money, Grace had an ingrained prejudice against "the Rich", but she told herself that a family that brought wealth from abroad might not count.

"I'm surprised that your father didn't stick you in a private school."

"He considered that, but he wanted for me to experience ordinary American life, and be able to describe it to him afterwards. Though after what happened today, he is reconsidering. He wants to talk to you."

So was that Grace's mission? Talking the father into letting Morgiana stay in public school? Why was that important? Grace was nervous about confronting the elder Begh. Morgiana seemed easy to please, but her father might still be anti-Semitic, and very much in charge. "What about your mother?"

"My _anne _and younger brother stayed in Turkey. We keep in touch with Email. They did not come because they had difficulty learning English. It is very different from Turkish."

"You speak it well."

"In my generation learning English is considered, how do you say it, cool. And the language itself has hints about the culture of the people who speak it. If I am to follow in my baba's footsteps, it is the first thing to master."

----

Professor Begh looked exotic: a tall, bald man with a long, dark beard. But his manner was quite gracious.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Polk. Or should I say Grace? I know that Americans like using first names."

Grace decided not to mention her own game of referring to her friends as "Rove", "Girardi", and so on. She also made a mental note to reign in her sardonic tendencies, as long as the other side stayed polite. So far the topic of religion had not come up, but this could turn very ugly very fast if she said the wrong thing. "Grace is OK."

"I want to thank you for standing up for my daughter. Do you think such incidents will continue?"

"I can't say. But the principal said the administration was going to be more vigilant. And I don't think those specific boys will try again. They are going to feel humiliated, having been beaten up by a couple of girls."

"Not as humiliated as a Middle Eastern boy would be in the same situation," said the Professor, amused.

"I am willing to risk it and stay in the school, Baba," said Morgiana, evidently sticking to English for Grace's sake. "But it is not just a matter of avoiding bullies. I want to fit in, and I want to ask Grace's advice about that -- why is that funny?"

She asked the last question because Grace had burst laughing. Finally getting her reaction under control, she said, "No, the question isn't funny. It's just that I'm the worst possible person to ask. I'm the class misfit."

"I am sorry," the professor said. "Your classmates exclude you, then?"

"No, it's sort of by choice. My philosophy is, there's a tug-of-war between being yourself and doing what society expects of you. Me, I don't want to compromise at all. I don't mind being the oddball."

"But if my daughter does not want to be an odd ball, is that possible?" asked the professor. "She is, after all, a foreigner. Can she ever be accepted?"

"Oh, yes. Look at it this way. America has always been welcoming to immigrants. My ancestors were from Poland. My best friends emigrated from Italy a few generations back. But in exchange, immigrants are sort of expected to assimilate to American ways. Too much, for my taste."

"But I am willing to try. Should I go without my scarf, Baba?" Morgiana asked her father. "Or would that violate the Quran?"

"The _hijab_ is not an end in itself, but a means to an end," said the professor. "The purpose is to protect a woman from unwelcome male attentions. What do you think, Grace?"

"Um, most American girls LIKE male attentions. But if you get too much, you can say so, or at worst slap the guy. He'll usually get the message."

The professor nodded. "Americans have their own ways of handling their problem, then. What else could Morgiana do to fit in?"

"Oh, there a lot of petty things she could do to look cool. American-sounding names, for example. If Morgiana let people call her "Margie", or "Maggie", for example --"

"I like 'Maggie'," said Morgiana. "There was a powerful ruler in Britain named Maggie, right? Maggie Thatcher."

Inspiration struck Grace. "Your horses. If you invite girls over and let them ride them, you'll probably be VERY popular. Lots of girls love horses but can't afford them. But of course, it's a matter of them getting something for nothing. They'll come for the sake of your horses, not you."

"I prefer to think of it as surmounting a barrier -- 'breaking the ice' as you Americans say. Once they get to know Morgiana, I think they will like her for herself. But how can we help YOU be popular, Grace?"

Suddenly Grace realized that the professor and his daughter were looking at Grace with a predatory air, rather like Professor Higgins sizing up Eliza Doolittle. And Grace was wondering what sort of situation God had placed her in now.


	6. Grace's Bad Hair Day

**Chapter 6 Grace's Bad-Hair Day**

"Yo! Luke!"

Luke slowed his walk off of the school grounds, recognizing the voice. He was still not quite sure how to deal with Adam.

The young artist caught up. "How is Jane? I thought she and I would spend more time together now that school is back, but I've scarcely seen her this week. Now it's Thursday afternoon"

On earlier occasions Luke might have shared Adam's puzzlement as to what was going through Joan's head. But now he understood his sister a lot better, though he was not at liberty to explain it all to Adam.

"It's not you, Adam. Joan's pretty overwhelmed right now. She's anxious to do well in her new law course. Monday, the very first day, she got hauled into Price's office -- did you hear about that? And yesterday she was worried about Glynis. Just give her time to get her head above water." As Adam nodded, reassured, Luke deliberately changed the subject. "How's Bonnie?"

"Doing well so far. The doctor gave her medicine to control the morning sickness. She's wearing loose clothes that won't show the shape of her belly, and she got excused from gym, so she won't have to change with other girls seeing. You know, I wonder how many of the other girls are in her condition? Getting near 18, thinking that they can handle sex--"

"I don't know. All I know that neither Grace nor Joan are in the club. And Glynis is such an ice princess."

"Yah. Well, give my love to Jane."

Luke waved at the artist. But as soon as the latter was out of earshot, Luke heard a familiar voice say:

"That went well."

It was the improbably handsome boy that Joan had dubbed "Cute Boy God." But Luke was immune to the charm that seemed to wow Joan whenever he showed up.

"I suppose that you've come to give me a mission. The girls got theirs three days ago."

"You like coming directly to the point, don't you? Joan's told you about Ryan Hunter." It was not a question. After all, the Boy knew everything.

"Yeah. She expected trouble from him this summer, but it didn't happen."

"Hunter has been out of the city consolidating his earthly fortune, which he believes will protect him. But eventually things will come to a crisis, and you three must be ready. I want you to find out everything you can about Ryan Hunter."

Luke stared. "What's the point? You're omniscient. You can tell me everything I need to know about Ryan Hunter."

"Luke, I could have simply advised that you change your focus to the life sciences. Instead, I sent you to vacation on a farm for two weeks. Why?"

"Because you thought I'd learn the lesson better if I worked it out myself. And I suppose that you're saying that the same is true about investigating Mr. Hunter."

The Boy nodded. "Feel free to ask the girls for help, just as they're free to consult you. But do not go to your father or his colleagues on the police."

_No, that would make things too easy, wouldn't it? _And although Luke didn't say that, he knew that the Boy could read the thought in his mind. Luke was starting to understand the frustration Joan felt dealing with their divine friend.

-----

The trio had agreed that Grace would sleep over at the Girardi house that Friday. She had often done so during the last month of summer, though now they had a more practical reason; an opportunity to compare notes. The Girardi parents didn't mind the visits, since Kevin's marriage now left them with a spare bedroom, nor did the Polonskis, as long as Grace shared the Sabbath meal with them. Of course neither pair of parents knew exactly what the teens were up to.

Grace walked into the Girardi house just before 8:00, and the two Girardis teens stared at her hair. Gone was the stringy, plastered-down look. Instead the hair was soft, brighter, and curled around her ears, in an attractive page-boy cut.

"Yeah," she said in answer to the unspoken question. "I went with Maggie to a beauty shop. My bad."

"Maggie?" repeated Joan.

"Morgiana. She wanted to get her hair done, now that it wouldn't be hidden by the scarf. I was just supposed to wait for her. But all sorts of women kept urging me to go ahead of them, as if the state of my hair was an emergency that couldn't wait. So finally I let a beautician mess with my hair, and she did THIS to me!"

"I think it looks cute," said Joan.

"You're not helping, Girardi. The good thing is, I can undo it. Just soak my head for a few seconds the next time I take a bath."

"You should wait until somebody tells you to soak your head," said her boyfriend with a straight face. "Given how often you get in arguments, that shouldn't take long."

"Very funny. Can't we talk about more important stuff?"

Neither of the parents was downstairs at the moment, but that might not last. "We can talk in the shed with the Boat," suggested Joan. "Dad and Kevin aren't likely to work on it until tomorrow."

They repaired to the shed, and Joan asked Grace to tell them more about Maggie.

"She wants to makeover herself as the all-American girl, partly to be cool but partly as a sort of cultural experiment for her father. She's no ditz. I'm going along, to see that she doesn't go too far. I think she should enjoy her uniqueness."

"Do you think all that is part of the Plan?" asked Luke. "Maybe you weren't supposed to do anything more than rescue her from the bullies."

"Maybe. But on the other hand, maybe this as a matter of crucial importance. Maybe Maggie is destined to do something really important, healing the breach between Muslims and West, but only if we get her through her current problems." Grace shrugged. "Until God pops up and convinces me otherwise, I'm just going to follow my gut."

"God vs gut. Interesting conflict," said Joan.

They laughed, then Grace added, "so what about Glynis? If it was just a matter of temporary nausea on Wednesday, God wouldn't turn her into a mission. Since He did, there are two other alternatives: either she's ill, or somebody knocked her up."

"Yeah, she's pregnant," Joan conceded reluctantly.

"What!" exclaimed Luke. "Just yesterday I commented to Adam what an ice princess she was when I dated her."

"Well, looks like somebody came on and lit her fire," snarked Grace. She had harbored a slight grudge against Glynis ever since that usually demure girl had told her to "take that stick out of your butt".

"I promised not to talk about it," said Joan. "Please leave her to me."

"All right," said Grace. "Now tell us about Hunter, Luke."

"I spent a lot of Thursday evening searching the Internet for information," Luke said, "and I've found at least one thing that's important."

"What?"

"Nothing," said Luke impishly.

"But you said--"

"I found _literally_ nothing, and that's an important clue. Like the Sherlock Holmes story, when Holmes realized a burglary was an inside job because the watchdog did nothing to stop it. There's no record of Hunter prior to last spring, so 'Hunter' must be an alias."

"Ah!" exclaimed Joan. "We can use that to arouse Dad's suspicions."

"Yes, but somehow I don't think that's part of God's plan."

"I don't care," said Grace, suddenly losing her cool. "That bastard set fire to my place of worship, and upset my mother so much that she fell off the wagon for a few weeks. I want to hurt him, and I hope that's part of the plan."

Luke, a bit taken back by her anger, said: "We'll just have to wait and see."

TBC


	7. Philosophic Discussions

**Chapter 7 Philosophic Discussions**

When Joan got to school the next Monday morning, she saw Grace standing with Adam, both of them looking at a poster in Adam's hands. Grace's new hairdo was still intact, so apparently nobody had told her to go soak her head yet. But Joan's main focus was, of course, on Adam. She sneaked up from behind and threw her arms around his neck.

"Who is it?" he asked blandly.

She withdrew her arms and gave him a thump on the head.

"Oh, it's you, Jane."

He dropped the act, turned around, and gave her a hug -- a one-handed hug, because he was still holding the poster in the other hand.

"So what's the poster about?" she asked.

"Maggie's going to give a party this Saturday," explained Grace, "and I got Rove to design a good ad. If Maggie likes it, Rove will take it to a printer he knows, and make several copies that we can hang around school. Have a look."

**AUTUMN FESTIVAL**

**ALHAMBRA ESTATE**

**Saturday, Sept 24**

**HORSEBACK RIDING**

**FOR BOTH BEGINNERS AND EXPERTS**

There was an impressive drawing of a rearing horse occupying much of the remaining space, and down at the bottom, less attention getting but plain:

**FOR GIRLS ONLY**

**NO ALCOHOL ALLOWED ON PREMISES**

"Autumn Festival?" echoed Joan.

"It's just a pretext," said Grace, "taking advantage of the fact that fall starts Wednesday. We can pretend that it's a Turkish custom. Most of the girls will accept any excuse for a party."

"For some girls," observed Joan, "those last two lines are going to be a double bummer. No guys, and no drinks."

"Well, we gotta be sensitive to the Professor's religious sensibilities," said Grace.

"I think that's the first time that I ever heard you say 'We gotta be sensitive'," teased Joan.

To Joan's surprise, Grace looked flustered at the remark. "Banning alcohol is not only Muslim, it makes sense from my point of view. As for keeping guys away, we don't want him to think his daughter's virginity is in danger -- after all, considering that we've got at least two pregnant seniors this year --"

"Bonnie, of course, but who's the other?" asked Adam.

"Top secret," Joan said hastily. "Known only to girls."

And at that point she saw the "other" walking down the hall toward them. Joan noticed how the other people tended to treat Glynis as invisible, and she seemed to like it that way. In the world but not of it, avoiding people that she probably classified as "stupid" (Come to think of it, would Glynis even have dealt with Joan in the past if she weren't Luke's sister?) . There had been a brief period a year-and-a-half ago when she discarded her glasses, put on make-up and reveled in attention, but that definitely had not lasted.

But once that slender form started to bulge out with a baby, she would definitely attract attention, and not the pleasant type.

Now she spotted Joan and waved her hand in an odd gesture. Joan left her friends and walked slowly toward her; she didn't want to attract attention either. As she approached Glynis suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom.

"I decided against an abortion," she said, in a low voice very unlike her usual breathless delivery. "Thanks for urging me to wait."

"What made you change your mind?" inquired Joan. "If you don't mind my asking."

"I talked to my parents this weekend. They were very upset; all the grand future they had envisioned for me was threatened by the baby, and they wanted me to get rid of it. But my grandmother was there, too. She's nearly eighty, and as a teenager she had to flee Italy because the Fascists were rounding up the Jews and sending them to Germany to be exterminated. She said: 'What's in your womb is not just a thing, it's a potential person, and a member of the Chosen People. Millions of Jews killed by a madman, and you want to kill one more because it's in your way?' I finally promised that I wouldn't."

Joan nodded, as sobered as Glynis was at the intrusion of the Holocaust into their comfortable world. It was sometimes difficult to remember that they lived in a relatively happy corner of space and time. Tragedies occurred -- her mother's rape, Mrs. Rove's suicide, Kevin's crippling accident, the murder of Judith -- but they were exceptions. Why did God bother sending Joan and her friends on trivial errands here when Divine intervention was so needed elsewhere? Perhaps the errands were mere practice, and they were destined to go on world-changing missions when they grew up.

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know," said Glynis, "Tell Friedmann, I guess."

It was odd that even after sleeping with a guy, Glynis still used his last name. But that may have been symptomatic of what her relationship with Friedmann was like.

----

By Tuesday evening, Luke had come to the conclusion that he had used up all the legitimate techniques for finding out about Hunter's past from the Internet, and that he had to go further. There were two problems: moral qualms about hacking into private information, and the fact that he had been careful never to learn how to do so.

As for the first objection, Luke decided his directive from Cute Boy God over-rode it. It was sort of like receiving a dispensation from the super-Pope. As for the second, Luke thought he knew somebody who would know how to hack.

-----

Friedmann, when Luke dropped by his house, seemed glad to see him. "Hi. Haven't seen you in ages, outside of school. I guess you're still sore at me."

"Sore?" Luke was so focussed on the spying problem that he couldn't remember what Friedmann was supposed to have done.

"Yeah. Maybe Joan never told you. During the summer, while I was taking drugs, I made a pass at her. It's painful even to think about now. Could you apologize to her for me?

_If you had guts, you'd apologize to her yourself_, Luke thought silently. But he was scarcely in a situation for moralizing at the moment. "Uh, maybe it would be easier if you help us out with something."

"Sure. What's the problem?"

Luke had concocted the story on the way over. "I suppose you know that Joan and Adam broke up for a while and then got back together. Well, Joan saw another guy for a while. And now he keeps bugging her. We don't know if he's harmless or a dangerous threat, and I can't find anything about him on the Web." All that was half-true, except that the "bond" between Joan and Hunter was metaphysical, not romantic, and they already knew that he was dangerous. "Could you help me dig deeper?"

"Piece of cake. What's his name?"

"Uh, Joan doesn't want me to let it out. Just show me the techniques."

Techniques. Dig deeper. All euphemisms for what Luke knew were considered unethical acts. The morality of it was starting to bother him again, even with Cute Boy God's approval. He recalled a discussion that came up in philosophy class, over a problem proposed by Socrates two and a half millenia ago. _You say that moral acts are consistent with the will of the gods. But is the act moral because they favor it, or do they favor it because it is moral? _Luke was sure that his father, for example, would define morality as independent from God.

Anxious to get his mind off of that, Luke changed the subject. "You said 'when I was taking drugs'. So you've stopped?"

"Yeah, I'm clean now. And I didn't even have to go into rehab. Glynis straightened me out."

"Oh?"

"It was all wound up with my grief over losing Judith. Now, I'm not going to go into details, but let's just say that Glynis reminded me that there are things a live girlfriend can do that a dead girl can't." He winked.

Luke was repelled, knowing what he did about Glynis' condition. Friedmann may seem to be giving credit to Glynis, but he was really preening himself on having such a loving girlfriend. And while pretending to be reticent, he was encouraging Luke to use his imagination, and Luke didn't like where his imagination was taking him.

On all accounts, he was relieved when somebody knocked at the front door. He accompanied the other to answer it.

It was Glynis, looking very determined and a little frightened. She focused on her boyfriend, ignoring Luke entirely. "Friedmann, we need to talk."

"Er, I was just leaving," Luke said. The 'techniques' he had learned so far would have to do. He had just reached his car when he heard Friedmann's voice shouting inside the house.

"You're WHAT!"


	8. The Autumn Festival

**Chapter 8 THE AUTUMN FESTIVAL**

_(Author's note: the description of Islam that I gave Professor Begh is based on book- and Internet- research. If any Muslim readers write in and tell me that I have gotten things wrong, I will correct the chapter)_

"Hullo. My name is Maggie Begh, and I'm your hostess this afternoon."

Grace thought that a little stiff, probably borrowed from her English primer, but none of the guests seemed to mind. After all, this hostess was going to be the source of free rides. Some of the girls looked eagerly at the horses in the corral.

"There are more guests than horses, so we'll have to take turns. Instead of just queuing up, I propose a little game. I have a number in mind, between 1 and 1000, and the two in front of the line must guess. Winner gets a horse for fifteen minutes; loser gets to compete again until she wins."

Luke's idea, from his research into Game Theory. The idea was that all the guests would have to "interact" with Maggie on some level, not just regard her as the source of horses.

"If you're a beginner, you can ask Selma there to lead you around the corral. But you'll have to go one at a time in there."

Grace herself stayed back in line; after all, she would have other opportunities to ride. She listened as the girls proposed numbers. A really brainy girl, like Glynis, might have been able to reason out Maggie's number from the wins and losses, but Glynis wasn't here. Apparently her encounter with Friedmann on Tuesday had gone badly. She wouldn't answer phone calls or Emails, even from Joan. She had pulled out of AP Biology, though Joan said she was still in the AP Law class. Grace was glad that Glynis was Joan's assignment and not hers.

On finally getting to the front of the line, Grace impishly bid "666", which she knew to be the devil's ID number in Christian tradition. Maggie probably did not know that significance, but it was close enough to her number to win a mount.

For a couple of minutes, she got used to the reactions of a horse that wasn't her summer steed, Pegasus. Then she urged it into a gallop, not stopping until she had reached the bounds of the farm. Turning her horse's head back toward the corral, Grace realized that she had made a mistake.

Most of the equestriennes were riding in pairs or groups, talking, paying more attention to each other than to their animals. They weren't excluding Grace; she had excluded them. And while they were conversing with each other, enjoying human contact, she was sitting outside the pale, on a strange animal that probably wanted her ass off its back.

Grace had always thought of herself as the eternal rebel, frozen out because she was always ready to voice unpopular ideas. But here was at least one sign that part of her isolation was self-imposed. Once more Luke's loving rebuke came to mind: _you don't care what people think, and push them away_.

_This has gotta stop._

Riding back, she tried to attach herself to a group of riders. But she saw no way of joining their conversation, and found herself staring at their horses' rumps rather than human faces. Somehow that seemed rather symbolic. In the end, dejected, she rode back to the corral to surrender her steed.

Maggie fortunately didn't notice her mood; she was addressing a small girl who was sitting on the corral fence, wearing an overly-large coat. "What about you, miss? Nearly everybody has ridden at least once, except you."

"It's all right; I've not interested in horses," said the girl. Grace started; it was Bonnie. "I just came because I wanted to make an announcement."

"Very well," said Maggie, though she was obviously puzzled. "Ladies! Please gather around. This girl wishes to make an announcement."

There was a bit of giggling over being addressed as "ladies", but the group was in a good mood, and complied.

Bonnie raised her voice. "You guys probably don't know who I am. But I'm going to get a lot of attention in the next few months, so I thought I'd take the bull by the horns." She opened her coat to reveal a slightly rounded stomach. "My name is Bonnie McLean, and I'm going to have a baby!"

---------------------

Joan looked out of the large window in the Professor's study. Out on the large grassland, a stable hand was leading a horse up to a group of girls. Two students that Joan did not know, one white and the other black, seemed to be dickering with Maggie. Maggie pointed to the black girl, who hoisted herself into the saddle and rode off. The loser didn't seem too upset. It looked like everybody was enjoying themselves though, Joan thought sourly, that might end if somebody should happen to step in a pile of horse droppings out there.

Joan was sour because she felt left out. Not because of the horses; the last animal she had ridden had been a pony led by a grown-up when she was eight years old. But she wished that she could mingle with the other girls. The big problem was that stables attracted tics, and she was terrified of catching Lyme Disease again, so that she was careful to stay inside.

Professor Begh was standing at her side, watching through the window as well. Maybe he didn't want to interfere with the girls' fun, or thought it would be improper for a Muslim man to be surrounded by a lot of girls, many of them in tight jeans and shirts that made the shape of their bodies rather obvious. Morgiana was wearing trousers too, but they were much looser. Joan recalled reading somewhere that Turkish women had worn "pantaloons" long before women in the West did.

To be sure, there were advantages in being stuck in here with the Professor. Over the past two years, Joan had tried to make sense of her unusual calling by talking with religious professionals: Father Ken, Rabbi Polonski, her own sister-in-law Lily. She had never talked to a Muslim before, so she asked tentatively, "Professor, can you tell me about Islam?"

He laughed. "I teach entire courses in it, so it is difficult to summarize in a few sentences, though I'll try. Islam is Arabic for Submission or Obedience. That is Obedience to the will of Allah, as expressed in the Quran."

"Allah is God, right? Aren't there other ways of finding out God's will?"

"Other religions, such as Judaism and Christianity, have sacred books of their own. The Prophet called them the People of the Book, _ahl al-kitab_, and said that their beliefs should be respected, though he insisted that only the Quran was infallible."

"What if God speaks to somebody directly?"

"Only a few people have been so honored, according to the Quran. Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and of course Mohammed himself. The Great Prophets. Some Muslims believe that there is a future prophet to come, the Mahdi. Others believe that the record that Mohammed left in the Quran is sufficient, and no future prophets are necessary."

Either way, it didn't seem as if he would believe that a gawky American girl received visits from God every few days. As usual, Joan would have to keep that extremely secret from him. Which made him no different from any other grownup she knew.

"May I ask something awkward?"

"You may try."

"What is it with Arabs and Jews? You talked about People of the Book, and you don't resent Grace's religion at all, but when I pick up the newspaper--"

"It's very complicated. First of all, Turks are not Arabs. We share the same religion, but our ancestry and even our languages are fundamentally different. We even fought a war a century ago. Secondly, many Muslims divide the governments of the world into two types. Those that explicitly follow _Shariah_ , or the principles of the Quran, and those that don't. Many are distressed at having holy territory under a non-Islamic government. Europe went through a similar stage centuries earlier, called the Crusades."

"Yeah. G--, I mean a good friend once told me that the Crusades were more political than religious."

"In Islam it is hard to distinguish between the two, but in Turkey, we have tried to imitate the Western concept of separating church and state. There is nothing fundamentally anti-Semitic in Islam. Legend says that the first person to whom the Prophet told his story was his wife, and the second was a Jewish neighbor. Five centuries ago, when the Spanish Inquisition was persecuting Jews, the Ottoman Empire gave them refuge. My reaction to Grace is admiration for her defending my daughter in school, and some puzzlement. She does not seem to have many friends."

"I know. She'll never be Homecoming Queen, but she seems content with the friends she's got."

"Homecoming Queen?" repeated the Professor, puzzled.

"Oh, an American custom. Pretty silly."

"I wish to learn about American customs. Tell me."

She did, never dreaming of the odd events that the explanation was destined to set in motion.

TBC


	9. The Gates of Paradise

**Chapter 9 The Gates of Paradise**

It was odd: even though Will and Helen were together nearly all day Sunday, they still waited until bedtime to exchange confidences. Maybe it came of having three children underfoot, before whom they did not necessarily want to discuss every detail.

"So your art show is this week?" asked Will.

"Right. I'll be staying in Baltimore a couple of nights, Tuesday and Wednesday. I hope everything will be all right here."

"What could go wrong?"

Helen sighed. "I got a call today from Mrs. Figliola -- remember her? We saw her at a Parent's Night at the school."

"Yeah. Their girl is Joan's age, and very brainy, I hear."

"Right. Well, that girl is also pregnant."

"Oh, no. What is she going to do?"

"Carry it to term, try to keep up with school as much as she can."

"I admire the girls for taking responsibility, and I'm glad the school is accommodating them, but two unwed mothers is too much. I don't want other girls getting the idea that teen pregnancy is cool."

"If they do," Helen said drily, "maybe I should get them together and tell them what hours of labor is like. Very uncool. But you're right; I'm worried about Joan."

"She's been tempted by sex on two occasions, and resisted both times."

"But she WAS tempted," brooded Helen. "And you know how unpredictable she is, rushing into situations on impulse. If a third temptation comes up --"

"Maybe Luke can be a steadying influence on her. They seem to spend a lot of time together nowadays."

"You know, that's odd. Joan and Luke used to squabble all the time. She would call him a dork and he would call her an idiot. But now they're perfect friends."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, just puzzling."

"Maybe it was Joan's little accident at Kevin's wedding, and the night in the hospital. That may have scared Luke into being more affectionate, knowing he could lose her."

"Maybe."

After they turned their attention to more personal matters. After all, they were going to be separated for two days.

---

RINGRING.

Will looked at the clock - 2:08 in the morning! -- and snatched up the phone receiver. But not quickly enough to avoid waking Helen.

"Hello?"

"Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night, boss. But this sounded like a case that you would want to be in on."

"What is it?"

"Someone vandalized the Arcadia Mosque."

"Give me the address. I'll be there."

"What was that?" asked his wife.

Ordinarily Will would have simply told her. But she remembered her odd claim last spring that she had foreseen the attacks on the church and synagogue. It would be interesting to see what she "foresaw" if he didn't tell her the details; Will was convinced himself that it was all a déjà vu illusion. "Cold case just turned hot again."

------------------

The mosque was a converted Protestant church. Nothing overtly Middle-Eastern in its outer appearance, but any overtly Christian symbols like crosses had been painted over. Other details might become more obvious in the daytime.

The original call had come from a night watchman. He was a hired guard, not a Muslim himself, but good at his job.

"We've had acts of vandalism before, but this one was different. Usually the damage is external, a broken window or graffiti on the outer wall. This guy went directly to the central meeting hall. Even passed by the alms-box, which he could have checked for money."

"Did you see him?"

"Very briefly, when I spotted him in the meeting room. But he had a ski mask on. I wouldn't be able to spot his face in a line-up."

"Height? General build?"

"A little hefty, but I would say that he was athletic, not fat. Height you may be able to judge from the sabotage."

"Show me."

The meeting room had obviously originated as the Protestant sanctuary. But the pews had been removed and replaced by prayer mats. Where Will would have expected an altar and cross was now occupied by a large ornamented arch. But instead of leading into another room, the interior of the arch was an abstract mosaic -- a badly smashed one.

Will always felt uncomfortable in places of worship, devoted as they were to a worldview that he found incomprehensible. The effect was doubled in the mosque. The Catholic church he at least had found familiar, having attended one in childhood. The mosque was based on an alien culture, one he respected but did not understand.

But that was superficial. These were crime victims, just as entitled to police protection as everybody else, and Will was determined to give it to them.

"The right side of the arch has been moved out from the wall," observed Will. "Did the saboteur do that?"

"No, it's always been that way, and I was carefully warned never to fix it. Something to do with the ritual. You'll notice that prayer mats are at the same angle."

"Is the priest here? I'd like to ask him about the ritual."

"He's called an Imam, and he's out of town. But I called Professor Begh to come. He's not only a member, but a expert on Islam."

"Good. Show my assistant where the saboteur broke in, and see if you can pick up clues. I'll stay here." Ordinarily Will would look at the break-in point himself. But this crime was different. It was psychological, and the clue must be here.

Eventually the guard ushered in Professor Begh, and explained Will's rank to him. A foreigner might not be used to plainclothesmen. Explaining the crime was unnecessary: the professor took one look at the arch and cried "_Ya allah_!"

Will gave the man a few seconds to absorb the shock, then asked carefully, with as much respect as he could, "I understand that this was an act of desecration, but could you explain the symbolism to me?"

"Yes -- very well --" the professor got himself under the control. He indicated the arch. "This is the _mihrab, _When you face that, you are guaranteed to be facing in the direction of Mecca, which is part of our ritual."

"That's why it's at a slant? Because the original building wasn't oriented properly?"

"Yes. There is a lot of symbolism associated with the _mihrab. _Although it can take any form, it is often designed as an arch or entryway, to symbolize the gates of Paradise. For that reason, we try to make it as beautiful as possible."

"So it looks like the saboteur was knowledgeable about Islamic custom, and deliberately damaged the object that the worshippers were most likely to look at and admire."

"That is a very dark way of looking at it, but yes."

And the biggest psychological point was one of which the Professor would know nothing. Why now? Will was certain that this saboteur was the same one who had damaged the church and synagogue last spring, but why the long delay? Will thought that if he could solve that mystery, he would have his culprit.


	10. In Camera

**Chapter 10 In Camera**

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The title is Latin and can either mean "In a meeting" or "in the closet". In this case, it means both)_

It took two weeks for Luke to work out the scheduling, but he finally determined a time at which he, Grace, and the biology closet were all free. As a result, he and Grace met in their favorite cubbyhole at 1:30 that Monday, and had fun.

Or at least Luke did. He sensed some underlying sadness on Grace's part, though he was probably the only mortal in the world who would have noticed it. "What's wrong?"

Grace sighed, "I think I'm in a rut."

"Tired of me?"

"No! Tired of - of me, basically. The problem started years ago. When I was born my parents named me _Asenka_, Hebrew for "the Graceful One". Grace was the English translation of the name. So when I decided to rebel against my parents, I decided to be as graceless as possible."

"You succeeded pretty well."

"Thanks a lot. But what's the point now? My mother's recovering, and our divine friend promised that she wouldn't relapse again. Just two days ago I had a chance to go horseback riding with a lot of girls, but by sheer habit I struck out on my own and found myself isolated."

"Some people are loners by nature, Grace."

"Yeah, but I want to give a try. I fibbed about my hair-do. Maggie talked me into trying to look more attractive."

"To do a new 'do or not to do a new 'do, that was the question."

Grace chortled, partly jollied out of her funk. "Say that fast three times."

KNOCKNOCK.

Grace and Luke stared at the door. Most people, finding a biology closet locked, would simply look for the key. Who would politely knock on the assumption that people were inside? Finally Luke answered the door while Grace pretended to scrutinize some gruesome specimen on the shelf.

It was Adam.

"Hi," he said. "Sorry to intrude on you guys -- don't let me interrupt -- but I need a place to hide."

"Hide from what?" Luke asked.

"The student body. Everybody knows now that I've got an expectant mother living with me, and they draw the obvious conclusion. The girls are contemptuous, and the boys are leering -- I don't know which is worse. Thank goodness Jane knows the truth."

"Can't Bonnie explain it?" suggested Grace.

"Yeah, she's trying, but that news is travelling slowly. At least I'll be gone a couple of days; I got permission to go down to the Baltimore Art Show where my picture is on display. Once I get back, it should have blown over, so I just need a few hours concealment."

KNOCKNOCK.

"_Now_ what?" said Grace angrily. "Oh, it's you, Girardi. What is this, a double date or something? You guys find your own closet."

"It's not about that," said Joan. "Um, hi, Adam. There's been another case of religious sabotage."

"What is it?" said Grace, suddenly sobering as she remembered seeing her synagogue in flames.

"Maggie's Mosque. Somebody smashed a me-rabbit or something."

"Do you think it's -- the same person?" asked Luke.

It was very awkward. Three of them were thinking about Ryan Hunter, but they couldn't speak the name while Adam was there. Not only was Adam not in the secret, but he owed Hunter a favor for rescuing him from a storm back in the spring, and might feel obliged to defend him.

"I'm sure of it," said Joan. "I wish we could -- do something."

"I'm sure your father will nab him, Jane, now that he's foolish enough to come out of hiding," assured Adam innocently.

"I hope so, but something tells me that this guy's no fool," hedged Joan.

"Well, I gotta go to a class," said Luke, giving up. "See you at home, Joan?" He hoped that she got the hint: that they could talk then, maybe involving Grace, without Adam in the loop.

She watched Luke and Grace go, and was so intent on their plans that she started when Adam caressed her hair. She had forgotten that he was still behind her. _Forgotten Adam_! She covered by turning around and planting a lingering kiss on his lips. But privately she was thinking: we're weaving a web so mixed up that God Himself couldn't untangle it. Or maybe He just doesn't want to.

TBC


	11. Competitions

**Chapter 11 Competitions**

_(Author's Note: Since this story is getting long and complicated, I thought that I'd supply a time line of the key events:_

_Sunday, 8/14 Luke returns from vacation and learns of his promotion _

_Monday, 9/12 Opening day of school_

_Saturday, 9/24 Maggie's horse party_

_Monday, 9/26 Attack on mosque_

_Wednesday, 9/28 Adam wins award for painting_

_Friday, 9/30 Homecoming Queen Nominations_

_(future)_

_Thursday, 10/13 Yom Kippur (Grace's first after Bat Mitzvah)_

_Saturday 11/19 Homecoming Game/Luke's 17th Birthday/end of story_

_The rest of the story is planned out in detail and will total either 18 or 19 chapters.)_

"And first prize for best painting goes to -- Adam Rove!"

Delighted, Adam left his seat in the auditorium and started toward the dais.

He had conceived the idea for the painting, "Choices and Consequences", a few months ago, when it seemed that his submission to Bonnie and ruined his life. Even after Joan forgave him, the memory of the despair was enough to drive the painting.

It was in two parts, a device borrowed from Mrs. G's "St. Joan" painting, though this time the split was between left and right. On the right a painting of himself and Joan in bright, happy colors; on the left, virtually the same picture shadowed in gloom, with only minor changes other than the choice of color. Of course nobody but Mrs. G would recognize Joan's portrayal. Others might not even recognize it is as autobiographical, but simply the working out of an idea.

Adam took the podium. "I know it's traditional to say 'I would like to thank', but this time it's special. I would like my art teacher, Mrs. Helen Girardi, to come up here and share in the credit."

Helen emerged from the audience. Adam couldn't tell if she was upset over loosing first prize, or how much his praise compensated for that, but she looked happy, and he felt that honor was satisfied.

There had been a time, two years ago, when Adam would have reacted to a large monetary reward by chucking school. But circumstances had changed. Now graduation was seven months away, not thirty, and forgoing a diploma when it was that close was silly. Secondly, he had more friends now, friends whom it would be difficult to see if he cut himself off from school. Thirdly, he had to present a good model for Bonnie, who was constantly tempted to drop out now that she was in her fourth month. To convince her of the value of staying in school, he had to stay in himself.

Thus, two days after being acclaimed by adults in Baltimore, Adam was sitting in on a meeting that he found particularly stupid. Price had convened the senior class in the gym to discuss the Homecoming Game.

"The Homecoming Game this year falls on November 19 this year. As you all know, it is customary for the senior class to elect a Homecoming Queen to preside over the occasion. Today is September 30, end of the month. By establishing the nominations today, we can start October with the contests in place. To be a candidate, you must be nominated and seconded. Do I hear nominations?"

Listen to him, thought Adam with contempt. He twiddled his thumbs when it was a matter of giving a Muslim girl protection the day after 9/11, but he gets all excited over some stupid ritual seven weeks away.

"I nominate Elizabeth Groetzmann"

"I second."

"Do you wish to run, Miss Groetzman?" asked Price.

"Yes, sir."

That was predictable. Elizabeth was star of the drama club and loved being the center of attention. Though, to do her justice, she was a nice girl who had coached Joan in last year's musical instead of dissing her as a rival.

"Anymore?" asked Price.

"I nominate Ashley Arkwright"

"I second."

"Do you wish to run, Miss Arkwright?" asked Price.

"Of course."

Also predictable. Ashley was the center of a clique of rich girls who thought themselves the cream of the crop. She was probably going to be surprised to find out how unpopular she was outside of her little circle.

"Any more?" asked Price.

"I nominate Adam Rove," said Bonnie.

The class roared with laughter. Bonnie got to her feet, and her swelling figure made her look rather formidable. "I mean it! Adam did a very good thing, taking me in, knowing how the gesture would be misunderstood."

"Miss McLean," said Price slowly, this is a _Homecoming Queen_ contest. Goodness has nothing to do with it. Nor do Y chromosomes. Next?"

"I nominate Grace Polk," said Maggie Begh.

There was a few seconds of startled silence.

"I second!" declared Joan.

"Do you wish to run, Miss Polk?" asked Price, still looking incredulous.

"Um, um, all right," said Grace, looking stunned.

"Very well. Are their any more nominations? Closed, then. The list of contestants for Homecoming Queen will be Elizabeth Groetzmann, Ashley Arkwright, and -- Grace Polk. The three contestants will each choose an escort for the ceremony, and we will send you descriptions of the proper outfit. Class dismissed!"

The senior class started to scatter. Adam caught up with the two Girardis.

"Where's Grace?" he asked.

"Restroom," said Joan. "She said that she had to throw up, on realizing that she had agreed to run for Homecoming Queen."

"But she did agree, didn't she? And why are you looking so glum, Luke?"

"November 19. That's my birthday! But with Homecoming falling the same day, everybody will forget me. Again!"

Joan put her hand reassuringly around her brother's waist. "Don't worry, Luke. I'll see that nobody forgets, this year."

"And to make double sure, I'll make a big poster for you to hang in your dining room where your parents will see it all the time," offered Adam.

"Thanks, guys."

"Now, let me alone with Adam, will you, bro?" teased Joan. Luke, now reassured, smiled and walked off.

Joan hugged Adam. "Mom told me about your winning the contest in Baltimore. That's wonderful, Adam."

"Thanks. How about going on a date tonight to celebrate?"

"Um, I can't. I agreed to meet with Luke and Grace tonight. To, um, study."

"On Friday night?"'

"The exam is Monday morning, and we don't want to tie up our weekend. See you tomorrow?"

It was the latest in a long series of postponements. Joan would wiggle out of a rendezvous, and say that she was meeting with her brother and/or best friend.

"Yeah."

Later that day he bumped into Grace who looked thoroughly sour. He took the risk of stopping her and asking a question. "Grace, will you be seeing Jane this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm studying and sleeping over at the Girardi's. Why?"

"Um, tell her I'd prefer a date at the Italian restaurant."

"Tell her yourself, Rove. I'm not a walking Email system."

Rude, but that was typical for Grace, and it set Adam's mind at rest.

His Jane was not seeing another boy.


	12. Hunter Hunted

**Chapter 12 Hunter Hunted**

_(Author's Note: The TV series left a lot of Ryan Hunter's past mysterious. Here is my take on the character)_

"Why the hell did you second that nomination?"

"Why the hell did you did you accept it, if you didn't want it?" returned Joan.

"Temporary insanity," grumbled Grace.

"If you can claim insanity, so can I. After all, I've been in a Crazy Camp."

"Girls! Please calm down," said Luke. "Friday nights are the only times we can go over secrets, so let's not waste time." They were gathered in Luke's room. Their parents were by now used to Grace's Friday sleepovers and left them to themselves.

"That's easy for you to say," snarled Grace. "You won't have to get your ass in an evening dress." She brightened at a thought. "Though as my escort, you WILL have to rent a tuxedo."

"Luke's right; we've got problems to focus on," Joan said. "I keep talking to Friedmann, trying to persuade him to stand by Glynis, but he keeps saying, 'Oh, you girls stick together.' Maybe you could talk to him, man-to-man, Luke."

"Maybe. But I want to talk about my research on Hunter first."

"Go ahead," said Grace.

"I did some of the hacking that Friedmann recommended, and the earliest mention that I could find of Ryan Hunter was February of this year, applying to replace a "lost" driver's license. Before then he was somebody else. Let's call him X. Giving things names makes them more concrete, easier to visualize."

"'To give airy nothing a local habitation and a name'" chanted Grace. As the other two stared she said, "Shakespeare. Never mind."

"I get it," mused Joan. "We can deduce a lot of things about X. He'd be Hunter's age, about the mid-twenties. And he would have disappeared just before Hunter appeared in February."

"And unless he came here specifically to look for Joan," said Grace, getting into the spirit of things, "he must be from this area of the country."

"And one more thing," said Luke. "X must have had a lot of money. Remember that when Hunter first appeared, he was already rich."

"He told Dad that he was independently wealthy," recalled Joan.

"Yeah. That was to avoid raising suspicion. If you have a lot of money and no obvious source, saying you inherited it is about the only thing that sounds legitimate. Otherwise somebody like Dad would think of things like money laundering and black marketing. But what actually happened is that X somehow left the money for Hunter to claim."

"So we follow the money, like the people in the movies?" asked Grace.

"Maybe, but I'm not very used to finances. I think it would be better to stick to finding somebody fitting X's description. A young wealthy man disappearing, or "dying" without leaving a body behind -- that's going to attract a lot of attention. I'll get on the Internet, look for news stories around the beginning of the year. That part's actually legal. Joan, you're taking Law. See if you can find out how somebody can transfer a lot of money without attracting suspicion."

The girls agreed that it would be a good strategy, and so they separated to go to bed for a night. Grace was using Kevin's old room, and it was starting to look as anarchic as her own.

The next day Luke spent several hours scanning the Internet for missing-person stories, intermixed with homework. By evening he was tired out, and decided to watch an old science-fiction movie on TV. Normally he had to fight for TV dibs (and usually lost) but on this particular Saturday Mom and Dad were going out to a concert, and Joan was on a date with Adam.

Joan came back a little earlier than expected, and her manner with Adam was very stiff at the door. She didn't invite him in to relax. Luke watched from the sofa, deciding that this was more interesting than his movie, but he stayed quiet until Joan shut the door on her boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did Adam do something out of line?"

"No," she said ruefully. "I did."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got problems, Luke. Adam can tell that we're spending less time together than last year. First he thought there was another boy, then that I was simply losing interest. I felt that I had to do something rather drastic to prove that I loved him."

"What did you do?".

Joan turned red. "I offered to-to let him s-see me topless."

"What! Did you--?"

"Nope. Adam got real mad. Said he wanted Jane, not a centerfold."

"I still can't believe that you offered that. You've always been so shy about showing your body." He remembered how Joan always wore one-piece bathing suits when she swam (and even that was rare) and had been extremely embarrassed when pranksters had taken a phone-photo of her changing for gym, even though it hadn't revealed much. Over the years, Luke had had a couple of accidental glimpses of his sister naked, and thought, in a distant way, that she had little to be ashamed of, but it would be very awkward to tell her that.

"Yeah. Eventually Adam remembered that, and realized how painful the offer meant for me, and he calmed down. But you saw how awkward we were."

"Right. OK, Joan, concentrate on mending fences with Adam. I'll try to going to bat for Glynis this time."

------------------------

On Tuesday Luke visited Friedmann on pretext of asking him about decryption software, which he needed for the Hunter project. While there, he turned the subject to Glynis. Friedmann was clearly weary of talking about it.

"Look, I told Glynis that I'd stand by her, even marry her if she wants. But in return I want a promise that she'll give up the baby for adoption. We simply can't be burdened with a baby while starting out in a demanding college."

"Apparently she's afraid it won't be raised as a Jew."

"As if she was that observant. Yeah, I spoke to her grandmother. But one baby can't make that much difference in demographics."

"It isn't just demographics. Ripples matter. Glynis' baby could grow up to be somebody great, if it's raised right."

"In that case, maybe it's better if I don't get involved."

In the end, Luke had to admit that he had gotten nowhere -- except for an improved knowledge at decryption codes.

-----

"I think I've zeroed in on the right suspect for X," he told Joan and Grace when they re-gathered the next Friday. "There was a guy named Harold Reynolds, who disappeared in a winter storm while sailing in Chesapeake Bay. People had warned him that the weather was bad for it, but he insisted in going out anyway. The police made a report on the disappearance, and I was able to break into that."

"What do you know about his past?" asked Grace.

"Several things. His parents died when he was young, leaving him a sizable trust fund. He was brought up by a Reynolds uncle."

"Hunter said he was an orphan, though I didn't whether to believe him," remembered Joan.

"But here's the clincher. Reynolds had a girlfriend named Aurora Gottin. Last November, she went hiking on Mt. Nashman. During the hike, she lost her balance on a steep trail, fell and hit her head badly. Searchers found her dead. Reynolds was reportedly very upset at her death, so much so that some people told police that they thought his death was a suicide. That's why the police file was so detailed; they were trying to determine motivation."

"Mt. Nashman?" repeated Grace. "That's where Adam was stranded--"

"-- and where Ryan Hunter rescued him," said Joan. "I always wondered why. At first I thought he wanted to get on Adam's good side, then pump him for information about me. But when I got back together with Adam, and asked some careful questions, it turned out that Hunter never asked about me. So why risk his life to find Adam?"

"Because, from his point of view, it was like a second chance," mused Grace. "If he couldn't rescue Aurora, he could rescue somebody else, get a symbolic victory. You're right, Luke, I think Hunter must have been Reynolds."

"Do you have anything else?" asked Joan.

"Yeah. The police examined Reynolds' computer after his disappearance, and find two Emails. One from Aurora, sent a few days before her death, and another from a Reynolds cousin with whom he had been brought up. But they're encrypted."

"Can you break in?" asked Grace.

"Yeah, but the question is: should I break in? We all have our secrets, and we'd hate to have somebody break into our mail. If we're wrong and Reynolds isn't Hunter, we're prying into somebody's private tragedy. And as a policeman's son, I feel guilty about breaking into police records in the first place. Do we really want to pursue this?"

The three exchanged worried looks.

"Let's think about it for a week," suggested Joan. "When we get back together, we'll vote on what to do. Two out of three wins."

They agreed on that, and dispersed to go to bed again.

TBC


	13. Scenes on a Saturday Afternoon

**Chapter 13 Scenes on a Saturday Afternoon**

_(Author's note: If the events of the chapter appeared onscreen some of them might be rated R. Being merely in print, the T rating should still apply)_

Grace's cell phone rang the next morning while she was getting dressed in Kevin's room. She answered it, glad that cell phones did not give away locations. If people knew that she spent Friday nights at her boyfriend's house, they might draw obvious and wrong conclusions.

"Hullo. This is Maggie. I have a couple of things to ask."

"Go ahead."

"First, there are some things that I have seen at school that I would like to ask you about. Would you like to go riding today?"

"OK, but it will have to be afternoon. I attend synagogue in the morning."

"That is good. The other thing is, my father wants to learn about American-rules football, because he has promised to help with the Homecoming match. But we cannot find an explanation of the rules. Can you help us?"

"I'm not sure -- oh! I've got it. Kevin Girardi. He played in high school, and he'd probably be glad to explain it. I'll get it touch with him."

After getting dressed and walking out of the room, Grace met Joan. The girl agreed that Kevin would be good to consult and offered to arrange the meeting. After that the girls separated, each on their own errands for the day.

----

Joan visited Adam in the old garage/shed that he used for his art. Bonnie had long since learned to stay in the house and out of the way when Joan came to visit. Joan noted that Adam's focus had gradually shifted from sculpture to painting over the past two years, maybe due to her mother's influence. She asked him whether he had any new works in mind.

"I've been thinking of our conversation last week--"

"You have?" replied Joan, horrified.

"Nudity isn't just a matter of pornography. It's also an important genre of art -- "

"Adam, are you asking me to _pose _ topless? Because everybody who sees the picture will know what my -- chest -- looks like!"

"No, no. In the picture I have in mind, you'll just be visible from the back. I won't even see your, um, things, and since your face won't be visible, nobody will know it's you."

_Except for all the people who know I'm Adam's girlfriend. In particular, Mom. But if I do this, Adam can never complain that I'm neglecting him. And if I don't, Adam will wonder if I'll ever build up the nerve to make love with him this year, as I promised. I've got to keep in mind that he isn't just a boy who likes fantasizing about seeing his girlfriend naked. He's an artist who's won awards, and he wants me as his Muse._

"OK," Joan said, steeling herself for the ordeal. "I'll pose for you. But I have conditions."

"Sure. What are they?"

"You stay several feet behind me the entire time. Make sure nobody comes in or sees what's going on. And I call the shots. If I say stop, we stop -- immediately! Are you cool with that?"

"Cool."

---------

As Grace drove up to the Moorish house, she saw Maggie standing at the fence, in jodhpurs and riding boots. Of course, the family was in the horse-breeding business, so they'd be expected to have the special clothing. Grace would have to make do with jeans and sneakers.

"Come on out back to the stable," Maggie called. "I will give you your choice of the horses."

"I'm not really a connoisseur," said Grace. "Just something docile, so that I can talk without worrying about keeping my horse under control." It was a frank admission of weakness, something that she had been unwilling to admit during her first visit.

"Yes, talking is the main thing. I have been keeping quiet at school and trying to fit in, but some things simply bewilder me."

----

Professor Begh met the American couple outside of the school's stadium. The young man in the wheelchair was easy to spot.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Girardi."

"Call me Kevin. Actually this fulfills a sort of dream of mine, being a commentator at a game. This is my wife, Lily."

"_Enchante._ Miss Polk told me some things about you, Mrs. Girardi."

"It couldn't have been too accurate, if you still consider me 'enchanting'" observed Lily cheerfully.

"Are you interested in American football, Mrs. Girardi?" continued the professor, not quite sure what to make of her crack.

"Surfin's more my thing, but since getting married I've tried to interest myself in my husband's sports."

"Yeah," agreed Kevin. "She does the jumping-up-and-down on my behalf."

---------------

In the shed's small closet, Joan took off her blouse, then unhooked her bra. She picked up her blouse again and held it against her chest. "Ready, Adam?

"Yeah, I've set up a bench for you to sit on."

"OK. Turn around, and _stay_ turned around until I give the word. I'm coming out."

Joan charged out of the closet and sat down on the bench with her back to Adam. Finally she built up the nerve to drop her blouse to the floor. "OK."

Joan heard a gasp behind her as Adam saw her partly naked for the first time. _Is this playing with fire? I'm not sure what happened to Glynis. She said she was flirting with Friedmann and things got out of hand. _ But Adam seemed to recover quickly. "Look off into the distance." He directed.

"There isn't any distance, and you can't see my eyes."

"Pretend that there's distance. It'll help with the body language."

Joan tried, and discovered that it seemed to work. Now that she was no longer looking down self-consciously at her breasts, she could pretend to herself that they were decently covered. She wished she could see what Adam was doing, but her own conditions required him to be out of sight. She could hear a slight swishing sound -- pen across paper -- and when he started talking again, he sounded amazingly matter-of-fact. Maybe he realized she needed distraction. Or that he did.

"You told me a couple of weeks ago that there's another senior pregnant. Bonnie thinks it's Glynis. She says she recognizes the signs."

"Keep it under your hat, will you?" urged Joan. "Glynis is terrified of being ridiculed, and the father's worse. He won't even stand by her."

"Friedmann?"

"Yeah."

"That's terrible," Adam said indignantly. "If I can give Bonnie shelter, with some other guy's baby, he should support Glynis. They've been friends ever since I've known them. Should I talk to him?"

"You can try. Luke and I have both made the attempt."

"Maybe Grace can threaten to beat him up. He's always been scared of her."

"Violent thoughts from you, Adam? No, this has to be his free will, if only we could find the right argument_." God wouldn't give me an impossible mission, would He? Well, He did once, but that was to teach a lesson. What would be the point now?_

----

As Grace settled into the saddle, she felt another rush of excitement. At the Autumn Festival it had tempted her into galloping away from the other girls and isolating herself. This time she tried to analyze her own response.

It was a feeling of power, she thought. On a horse her head was nearly eight feet off the ground. And a flick of the reins could have her dashing across the fields several times faster than she could run under her own power. It was pleasant compensation for a girl who, for much of her life, felt helplessly trapped by home and school, with no outlet but making snarky remarks.

Meanwhile, she could have a pleasant chat with Maggie.

"So what did you want to talk about?" as they trotted into the field.

"I am worried about the attack on our mosque. I was afraid it was a matter of anti-Muslim sentiment. But others do not seem to think so."

"No. There's a crazy running around Arcadia attacking various religious buildings. He's not targeting Muslims in particular." Grace wished that she could explain about Hunter. But that was too tangled up with other secrets which she didn't want to discuss. "Have you been harassed at school?"

"Nobody tried to attack me since that first day. A few rude comments, but people around the hecklers tell them to "chill" and are careful to apologize to me. Nothing too bad."

_---------------_

The three spectators watched as the opposing team tackled the player with the ball.

"You say that each play ends with somebody tripping the ball-carrier?" echoed the professor. "It sounds rather violent to me."

"Yeah, but over the decades we've invented padding, and careful rules about how to tackle somebody," Kevin said, somewhat defensively.   
"People rarely get hurt".

"Are you familiar with football as it's played outside the U.S.? Physical contact is forbidden."

"Yeah, it's called soccer here. Children learn it in school."

"The moral of the story," remarked Lily with mock innocence, "is that violence is for adults."

_----------_

"All right, Jane. It's done."

"Thank goodness. Now, turn around while make myself decent."

"You're always decent, Jane, but I know what you mean. I've turned around now."

She picked up the blouse and put it on, without bothering with the bra. She made a mental note to retrieve it from the closet and stick in her purse. The last thing anybody needed at the moment was for somebody to find girl's underwear in the Adam's closet and wonder how it got there.

"Can I see?" asked Joan, holding out her hand for the sketch. "Awesome!"

Though it seemed egotistic to think so, Joan thought her image looked beautiful. No background, just a female figure with luxurious hair and sleek back. She looked more like a nymph in ancient Greece than an amateur model in a converted garage. For years Joan had had a body image of herself as rather dumpy. Now she knew that she looked alluring, at least in Adam's eyes.

-----------------------

"Is anything else bothering you?" Grace asked. The thrill of riding was beginning to pall, as she realized the sense of power was illusory. In a car she had more energy at her disposal than on a horse, though in the latter case the feeling was more novel and more direct. And it wasn't really Grace's power at all. She was able to ride a horse only because she had a rich friend who had provided one to her. And because she lived in a world where one species could exploit another simply by paying money for it.

Grace would never be one of those girls who simply got a kick out of horseback riding. Her mindset was too wrong. But she remembered the prophecy from Cowgirl God, that someday her equestrienne skills would save somebody's life. She was justified in staying in practice.

"Odd American customs," replied Maggie. "Like that girl who announced at my party, that she was with child. In my home village having a child and no husband would be a disgrace."

"Yeah. Well, here people sort of let you do your own thing, as long as you take responsibility for it. The conservative people who would normally despise Bonnie are actually inclined to admire her for not getting an abortion."

"Still, at home she would be considered a whore."

"You should have heard some of the names Joan called her last spring. I bet some of them weren't in your English vocabulary lessons. But, Maggie, some girls are sexually active but don't get pregnant because they're careful to use protection. Are they whores?"

"It's a different culture here -- " she did a double take and stared at Grace. "You mean you--"

"No, I was talking in general. I'm still a virgin. So is Joan, I'm sure." _Joan's panic when Adam tried to bed her last year proved that. Though I promised Joan I'd never repeat that story._

"So you're waiting for marriage?"

_That's a good question. Exactly what am I waiting for?_

--------------------

Surprisingly, what really interested Professor Begh was the half-time show. "The marching band was originally a Turkish invention. They would accompany the Janissaries into battle and encourage them with their music. See the conductor's elaborate costume? It's Ottoman in origin. When composers like Mozart wrote pieces featuring drums and other percussion, their contemporaries called it 'Turkish music'. They weren't assimilated into European music until Beethoven's time, a generation later."

Eventually the halftime show ended and the third quarter started. The Arcadia team kicked off, but scarcely had the other side caught the ball when the Arcadians brought it down, on its own 30th yard line. The Arcadia fans went wild. Even Lily, whose connection to the high school were quite indirect, jumped up and shouted:

"Go, Eagles! Give 'em hell!"

Professor Begh looked quizzically at Kevin. "Um, wasn't I informed that your wife used to be a _religieuse?"_

---------------

When Joan got home, her mother stared at her. "Honey, why is your blouse so wrinkled?"

Joan decided on a half-truth. "Adam and I were hugging and kissing a lot this afternoon. Do you mind, Mom?" she added with real annoyance. "I'm just two months from turning 18!"

"Yes, and that scares me." As Joan glared, her mother sighed. "OK, I'll let things slide. As long as you two keep your clothes on--"

"Um, cool."


	14. The Game's Afoot

**Chapter 14 The Game's Afoot**

_(Author's note: FanFiction's editor filters out Email addresses. Just assume that the first two Emails were addressed properly, and that Luke's was addressed improperly)_

The next Friday, October 14, Grace came for one of her usual sleepovers, as cover for a meeting with Joan and Luke. She was more somber than usual.

"Yesterday was Yom Kippur, Day of Atonement. The day on which Jews cut themselves out from the world, even abstain from eating, to meditate on sins committed during the year. It's the first one since my Bat Mitzvah, the first I really took seriously. I don't want to divulge everything, but my parents admitted that they had years of poor parenting to atone for, and I forgave them. By the end of the day I felt more at peace than I ever had in my life. And now, less than twenty-four hours later, I'm tempted to break into somebody's Email."

"It's for a good cause," said Joan, "keeping Hunter from hurting more people. We thought everything had subsided for a while, then he pulled that attack on the mosque. He could make another sneak attack at any moment."

"But are we fighting him the right way?"

"I know what you mean," mused Luke. "It's been amazingly long since God put in one of his appearances. Since September, right? I wish He'd pop up and tell us if we're on the right track."

"Maybe he wants to see how we can work on our own for a long period," mused Joan. "Like 'The Silence'. I really screwed up that time."

"Not your fault," reassured Luke. "You came down with Lyme Disease at the same time."

"Don't remind me. Let's focus on the task at hand. I vote that we decrypt those files. We agreed on a two-out-of-three vote. Are both of you going to side against me?"

"No," Grace conceded reluctantly. "I don't suppose I'll really be at peace until Hunter is out of our lives. I vote to decrypt."

"I'll go along," said Luke. "On condition that, if we really are invading innocent people's privacy, we erase the files and never discuss them again." The girls nodded. "OK, here goes."

He started the decryption program. Of the three of them only he knew how complex this procedure was, trying one strategy after another at lightning speed until one worked. And one did.

The first Email came out like this:

11/10/2004

_From: aurorag-----_

_To: harryr----_

_Enough is enough! I thought that when I gave myself to you that you were willing to do the same for me. But there's still a part of your life you hide from me. I don't know what it is. Another woman? Some piece of business? Whatever it is, it's obvious that you'll trust your cousin Tom with it and not me._

_I need time to think. I'm going on a trip to Mt. Nashman, to hike and think. Don't try to follow me there. If you need space, respect mine._

_Rory_

The second Email:

11/11/2004

_From: tomr-----_

_To: harryr----_

_It looks like you two have reached a crisis. If you want to hold on to Rory, you're going to have stop stalling and tell her about Y.V. Or at least lay the groundwork. It took some time for me to believe it, and time is running out for you. Do something!_

_Tom_

"Y.V.?" repeated Joan in puzzlement.

"Yahveh," guessed Grace. "God's personal name revealed to Moses, according to the Torah. When he appeared to you as a little girl, Joan, he probably said 'My name is Yahveh.' You shortened it to YaYa."

"So Harry and his cousin discuss God in code, as we do," concluded Luke. "I think this proves that Harry Reynolds is Ryan Hunter. He told his cousin about his relationship with God, but not his girlfriend."

Joan gave a cry. "She said that she was going to Mt. Nashman. But she had her fatal accident there. This angry Email was the last that he heard from her. How horrible!"

"And even if he decided to take his cousin's advice, he never got a chance," speculated Luke.

"Now that we know all this, what do we do?" asked Grace.

There was a long silence, finally broken by Joan.

"Let's appeal to that cousin, Tom Reynolds. He and Harry were obviously close. Tell him that Harry isn't dead; we know where he is. He may be grateful enough to give us more information."

"Yeah, or he may be furious that we've been reading his mail," pointed out Luke.

"Can you make the message untraceable?" asked Grace. "Like those irritating Internet ads that you can reply to but not identify?"

Luke sighed. "Yeah. One more breach of computer etiquette that I thought I'd never commit. Let's plan the message."

It took them nearly an hour to work out the message, which took the final form of:

_Mr. Reynolds: I know that you lost your cousin last year, and that your cousin had had a special calling, which I share. I have reason to believe that your cousin is still alive. If you want to know more, reply to the return address in this Email._

"Calling" was Grace's idea. It could mean just occupation, but it had a religious meaning as well, and Tom Reynolds might interpret it as a reference to his cousin's missions for God. The "I", instead of "we", was a deliberate piece of indirection, making it sound like a formidable single personality instead of a trio of teenagers.

After that they saved off the message in a computer file. Luke told them that in the morning he would work out how to send the message without its being traceable back to them.

------------------

Something woke up Luke that night, and he felt a slight need to pee. Nothing urgent, but he reflected that in the morning he would have to compete with three females for the upstairs bathroom, so he decided to take care of the need now.

The bathroom was set in the center of the upstairs rooms, but the door was locked. Luke stepped back and decided to wait patiently.

Eventually the door opened and Grace emerged. "Oh!" she squeaked.

Grace looked oddly vulnerable. She was wearing pajamas rather than the customary bikers' jacket, and still had her pageboy haircut. And for the moment, Luke saw a terrified look on her face. "Something wrong?"

She shrugged. "Nightmare. Two guys were trying to beat me up. I woke up in a sweat and decided to wash my face. Wasn't quite expecting to run into a guy coming out. You?"

"I have to, um -- " He couldn't express the embarrassing process to his girlfriend.

She smirked. "Yeah, one touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Don't let me stop you." She started off toward Kevin's room, then hesitated. "Luke, you turn 17 next month, right?"

"Yeah. November 19, the day of the Homecoming Game. Why?"

"Just wanted to make sure I had your present ready in time. Good night."

"Good night."

---------------------------

Luke sent the message the next day, and the teens waited for a reply. It did not come that day, or the next day. And when they did get a sort of response on Monday, it was in an utterly unexpected form.

Will come home from work a little early, looking as if a burden had been lifted from him. He wouldn't share his news, however, until everyone had gathered for dinner.

"You'll never guess what happened today. Some guy actually walked in and confessed to all three desecration cases."

Joan started "You mean Hunter-- " but her mother asked more forcefully: "Who was it, dear?"

"Fellow by the name of Thomas Reynolds."

Luke and Joan stared at each other, practically reading each other's minds. _This is bad, but we've got to keep our mouths shut until we figure this out._

"Why did he do it?" demanded Helen.

"That was hard to follow. Very theological, and I'm perhaps not the right person to understand it. Essentially he said that he had served God all his life, only to lose the two people he loved best within a year. One was his cousin, the other the cousin's fiancee. In his position I would just lose faith in God's existence -- and in fact I did -- but he assumed that God still existed and he needed to get revenge."

"What's going to happen to him?" Helen went on.

"That's a ticklish question. His actions outraged thousands of people, but there's a limit to what the DA can charge him with. Damaging religious works is not a specific crime, it just goes under the heading of destroying property. Starting the fire at the synagogue can be interpreted as arson. The DA may be able to evoke the "hate crimes" statutes. On the other hand, the fact that nobody was physically injured throughout is in his favor, and his lawyer may try an insanity defense. All in all, a lot of people may think that he was not suitably punished. Some may take the law into their own hands."

"Will," his wife replied angrily, "I know there's plenty of propaganda out there about religious extremists, but I've met hundreds of people at the church and synagogue, and they are law-abiding people."

"And I can vouch for the Beghs," added Joan.

"I accept all that. It only requires one vigilante to cause trouble. The local jail may not be secure enough. We may have to transfer him to a more secure facility in the area, perhaps even one of the prisons. Luke, what are you doing?"

Luke had gotten to his feet before end of the meal, violating one of the family's unwritten rules. "Sorry, but I've simply gotta call Grace. It's her synagogue, after all."

"Well -- Ok, these are special circumstances," conceded Will.

"I'd like to talk to Grace at the same time," said Joan."

"OK, you two are excused."

The two teens went up the stairs. Only when they reached the hallway connecting their rooms did they feel safe talking outside of their parents' hearing.

"WHAT HAPPENED?" demanded Luke, not loudly but with extreme emphasis.

"It looks like we screwed up royally," admitted Joan.

"Yeah," agreed Luke. "We thought this Reynolds guy might team up with us in exchange for information about his cousin. Instead he decides to protect Hunter. Either he knows about Hunter already, or he learned the story in a hurry."

"Whatever. We've just lost our main chance against Hunter: charging him with all the religious vandalism. Why did God let us screw up so badly?"

"Free will," said Luke bitterly.

"It looks to me like he would have been better off inventing obedient robots," said Joan. Then she winced, remembering who had first said that to her:

Ryan Hunter.

TBC


	15. Life Is Not a Game

**Chapter 15 Life is Not a Game**

In Joan's A.P. Law course, one of the major assignments was a term paper following an actual case. Joan had not settled on a subject yet, but on the day after Reynolds' arrest she hit on a plan that would satisfy both class requirements and her extra-curricular Project. And even though she was feeling rather low in general, she was proud of killing two birds with one stone.

"Dad," she announced at dinner Tuesday night. "I'd like to interview Mr. Reynolds."

"No way."

"But it's for my A.P. Law project. I'm supposed to write up a case."

"That's a good reason, honey, but I still can't arrange it. With all of the security we've promised, we can't let you in. Not unless Reynolds himself requests it."

Joan pondered while eating her pasta. Then she had an idea. "Tell him it's my calling."

"You mean connected to your future career?"

"Yes, but don't say it that way. Say it's my calling. Those exact words."

Will had a sad expression that Joan recognized_: my daughter is going crazy again. _But she suspected thatshe was a lot less exasperating than the "lunatic" that he was dealing with at work. "OK, I'll try it.

On Wednesday evening the expression had changed to one of surprise. "It worked! Mr. Reynolds _does_ want to see you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"But let me explain the conditions. He's being held at Baltimore Penitentiary, for his own safety, so you'll have to visit him there. I warn you in advance that it's a very depressing place. I want your mother to go with you."

"I'm almost 18, Dad."

"Nevertheless, that's _my_ condition. Reynolds will be taken out of his cell at a given time -- 2:30 Friday afternoon -- for the sole purpose of talking with you. You have to be on time, and that means missing school for Friday afternoon."

"I'm sure that Price will give her a pass," put in Helen, "since it's for a school assignment."

"You'll be on opposite sides of a transparent partition, talking over a phone. I'm sure that you've seen the arrangement in movies."

"Yeah. Will the conversation be private?"

"Nobody will be listening in. On the other hand, it doesn't count as privileged communication, so somebody could question you about it later."

Joan would have to worry about that when the time came. "Cool."

"All visitors have to go through a metal detector, and possibly a more detailed search if things go wrong. I'd advise you not to bring a tape recorder or laptop. Pen and paper might be better."

"OK_." Particularly since I don't want our conversation to get on record._

Tom Reynolds certainly did not look like the usual criminal-in-custody. He didn't even have the air of brusque determination that Hunter did. He looked like a thoughtful, sensitive person who was out of his depth.

"So you're God's new errand girl." The sarcasm was at odds with his appearance, and Joan immediately felt obliged to combat it somehow.

"Not new. I've been doing this for over two years."

"Do you mean that God had you AND Harry working for Him for a while? He must have been spoiled."

_He thinks God only had two helpers. He doesn't know about Grace and Luke. Luke's idea of using 'I' in the Email worked. I better keep him in the dark about that_. Aloud Joan said,"Why does that bother you?"

"Because I know Harry's whole story. He served God faithfully for years, until Rory came into his life. Rory was beautiful. I loved her myself, in a way -- not that I'd compete with Harry with her, but I'd be delighted if he had married her and brought her into the family where I could see her every day. But God kept interfering."

"How?"

"Harry wanted to have a normal life with his girl," Reynolds answered, his voice bitter, "but God kept calling him away for missions that he couldn't explain. Rory eventually got so mad that she decided to go on a vacation alone and decide whether to break off the relationship. I persuaded Harry that he simply HAD to let Rory into the secret. But before he could act on the new plan, we heard that Rory was dead. They say that there's providence in the fall of a sparrow, but apparently God couldn't be bothered to save Rory. Or let her die on purpose because she was in the way. Did YOU ever lose a friend?"

"Yes. Her name was Judith."

"Then maybe you know what it's like. Or maybe not, since you still stuck with being God's errand girl."

"Stop calling me that."

"Really? You should be honored. Catholics call the Virgin Mary _ancilla Dei_, the handmaiden of God. Being God's slave is the supreme honor for a human." His sarcasm was almost unbearably bitter.

"Just go on with your story," Joan said, annoyed.

"Well. After having Rory taken away from him. Harry decided that he would get revenge on God. Sounds impossible, doesn't it? You can't even touch God unless He wants to be touched, and He can wipe you out with a lightning bolt, like Zeus. But Harry had one big advantage. From God's point of view, all this is a game. The disguises, the riddles. And according to the rules of the game, God can't touch Harry. So he started his campaign."

"Why the new identity?" asked Joan, disturbed at the "Game" idea, and trying to focus on facts.

"He didn't want to disgrace the Reynolds name if caught, though I couldn't care less. He squirreled away his money -- I'm not telling you how -- faked his death, and came back as Ryan Hunter. The name was cleverly chosen. In Greek mythology Orion the Hunter was beloved by a goddess, until she got careless and killed him. That's what God did to Harry Reynolds."

"What about the attacks on the religious buildings?"

"Harry was annoyed at the way people praise a God who doesn't deserve it. He wanted to prove to them how weak their deity was, so weak that he couldn't protect his own shrines. In particular, he wanted to prove it to YOU."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Harry doesn't hate you, kid, and neither do I. We just don't want you to waste your life the way Harry did, playing God's Game." Reynolds sighed. "The vandalism was a bad idea, though. I just found about that last Saturday, after getting your Email and calling Harry. Committing a human crime makes Harry vulnerable to the police, or to stray vigilantes--"

_Egotist. It isn't a "bad idea" to make people suffer, only that the suffering people could strike back._

"-- so I decided to confess to the vandalism. That leaves Harry in the clear to continue the fight."

"It also means that you've ruined your life. Even after you get out of prison, you'll be an outcast," Joan observed quietly.

Suddenly the sardonic tone went away, and Joan saw the despair that lay behind the aggression. "I don't care. Rory is dead and Harry is avenging her. Nothing else in life matters much to me."

----------------

Joan rejoined her mother in a sort of front waiting room for the prison. But seeing several uniformed clerks, she had an idea. When she had tried to finger Hunter last spring, her own father hadn't believed her. But if she quoted the prisoner as mentioning a crime, maybe they'd have to look into it. "Wait a minute, Mom. I'd like to report something."

She walked up to a friendly-looking policewoman, and said, "Officer?"

"Yes, Joan?"

Joan hastily looked down at her VISITORS badge to see whether it gave her name; that was one thing that she could read upside down. When she didn't see it, she hazarded, "You're HER."

"Yes, Joan."

"And you're here to keep me from reporting what Reynolds told me, about what really happened."

"I won't keep you from anything, Joan. Free will. All the other officers here are real and you can walk up to any one of them. But I'd rather you didn't."

"Why? An innocent -- though rather nutty -- guy is in jail and a guilty man is at large."

"Reynolds is in jail by his own volition, Joan. As for the guilty man -- you work in a bookstore. Have you ever read Dostoyevsky's CRIME AND PUNISHMENT?"

"No, and I presume you knew that already."

"In the story an excellent policeman has all the evidence he needs to arrest a murderer. But he doesn't do it. Why?"

"Because most Toasty-oatsy characters are crazy?"

"Read the book, Joan. You can always quote Reynolds to the police later."

Joan was sulky during the entire drive back to Arcadia. Helen doubtlessly noticed that and attributed it to the depressing visit to a criminal in a prison. But what Joan was really doing was questioning her way of life.

--------------------

Joan related the whole disturbing conversation to Luke and Grace that evening. "Do you think that he's right, that God is just playing games with us?" asked Luke.

"I brooded over that for hours," Joan said, "but I finally decided, no. I think the missions have really changed me for the better. The me of two years ago was just an aimless girl, without much drive or self-respect. Let's face it—I was a self-absorbed bubble-head. Now I'm focused on a possible career, and I developed the maturity to forgive Adam and Bonnie, and I try to make sense of the world. If it was a game, I was a winner."


	16. Halloween

**Chapter 16 Halloween**

_(Author's Note: in the BUFFY Season 4 Halloween episode "Fear Itself", Willow dressed up as Joan of Arc and her boyfriend Oz played "God in human form". I've always wondered whether that gave Barbara Hall an idea.)_

"Oh, good Lord," Helen said, as Joan of Arc and Albert Einstein came through the front door.

"Do you like them?" Joan asked. "They let us wear our costumes all day at school, and you should have seen some of the others. Grace was a witch, Adam was the Scream picture. Maggie played a harem girl, though a bit overdressed for one."

"Even some of the teachers got in the act," said Einstein. "Lischak was dressed as the assistant headmistress from HARRY POTTER. Too bad you don't work there anymore."

"Sorry I missed this one day," admitted Helen. "Might have gotten material for more paintings. Some people think Bosch got some of his images from masques."

"Is Dad here?" asked Joan. "I want him to see our costumes before we take them off."

"He's running late. Something about a big confession. But he told me not to halt dinner for him, so we can start."

Joan and Einstein settled down to eat, the latter taking off his mask. About halfway through dinner their father sailed through the front door, exclaiming "What a weird day! And that's not even counting the fact that it's Halloween."

"What happened, Dad?" asked Luke.

"Let me get a bite in, before I start. I've gone a long time without eating, and it'll take a long time to tell."

So they seated him at the table, and after finishing the course he began his story. "Just after lunch we got an Email at headquarters. The writer confessed to vandalizing the church, the synagogue, and the mosque."

"But somebody already confessed to all that," said Helen. "Joan interviewed him more than a week ago."

"Yeah, and Emails can be forged easily. So we paid a visit to the writer's place. His housekeeper said she had been told we were coming, and gave us a package her employer had left with her. In it was a signed confession, and relics from all three places of worship. By comparison, Reynolds wouldn't even explain details, such as why all the targets were in Arcadia when he lived elsewhere in Maryland. The new confession is far more convincing."

"Who was the writer?" asked Joan.

Will sighed. "Ryan Hunter. I owe you an apology, Joan. You suggested Hunter months ago, but I didn't think you had any proof."

"I don't care, as long as he's behind bars."

"But he isn't. It seems that in the past few days, he has been systematically shifting his assets to offshore accounts that we can't trace. Just after giving the housekeeper the incriminating package, he left -- nobody knows where. The motive behind the confession was to clear Reynolds, not to surrender himself."

"But- but-," stammered Joan. _This doesn't make any sense. God must have foreknown that this would happen. Why did he keep me from turning Hunter in?_

DINGDONGDINGDONG.

"Front door. I'll get it," said Helen. Putting on a calm face, she went and answered the bell.

"Trick-or-treat!" came a shrill voice.

"Here's your treat, little girl. Lovely princess costume. But are you out all alone?" That was typical of Mom, to worry about strangers.

"Nah. My older sister is looking after me. She's just hiding 'cause she doesn't have a costume. Hey, does Miss Joanie live here? She used to baby-sit me."

"Yeah," said Joan, walking to the door. "I live here. Who--?" and she stared. The spirited little girl was wearing a princess costume instead of the usual odd hairpiece, but Joan had no doubt that she was looking at Little Girl God.

"Can you come trick-or-treat with us, Miss Joanie?" said Little Girl God, clearly putting on an act for the sake of Will and Helen.

"As long as I can bring my brother."

"Yeah. Bring him too."

"Is that OK with you, Mom, Dad?" Joan asked, turning toward her parents.

"Sure, Joan," replied her father. "Just stay together, and don't wander too far from the house. Halloween can get strange."

So Joan of Arc and Einstein went out with the Little Princess. Once they reached the sidewalk and were out of their parents' hearing, Joan of Arc was in a bellicose mood indeed. "Ok, what's going on?"

"I'll let my 'big sister' explain."

"But you don't have a big sister," said Einstein. "Not unless you're a Greek goddess."

"Call her what you want," said Little Girl God. "There she is."

Joan turned where the girl was pointing, and gasped. _"Judith!"_

"Hi, JoJo."

Luke tore off his Einstein mask and put his glasses on to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. He had not seen a ghost before.

"What are you doing here?"

"What better time for a ghost to be out than Halloween? But seriously, JoJo, I know that you're very troubled, so I decided to pay you a visit. And I'm always around, you just don't see me most of the time. I like to keep tabs on you."

"Wait a minute," Luke interrupted. "How do we know you're not God in disguise, impersonating Judith to play on Joan's emotions?" Little Girl God had disappeared by now.

"Go to hell, Luke," Judith said serenely.

Joan giggled. "I think that proves things, Luke. God never casually curses people. I mean, the curse might WORK."

"All right," he said grumpily. "But I want an apology."

"Sure, I apologize, Luke," said the ghost. "I only said it to make a point. It should be clear that, if my soul can be redeemed, yours is in MUCH less danger."

"Ok, but I still want to know what you're doing here. Are you being a spokeswoman for God?"

"No, Luke. I can see things from my perspective that aren't clear to you mortals, and I volunteered to come explain things."

"OK, let's get to the important points," said Joan. "I read CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, and boy, was it depressing! The main point was that the policeman refrained from arrest because he wanted Rascal Nicky, or whatever his name was, to turn himself in of his own accord. But Hunter didn't do that. He cleared his cousin, then fled. So why didn't God want me to turn Hunter in and defeat him once and for all?"

"God doesn't want Hunter put away, Joan -- He wants him REDEEMED. Hunter is an extraordinary mixture of good and evil. The evil you know about, but he did good works for God for years, and even at the last he saved Adam's life and inspired immense loyalty in his cousin. I told you last spring that this was a supreme test, JoJo. Putting him in prison would be easy. Redemption will be more difficult, and you will play a role in it. That's why God wanted you to learn all about Hunter -- so you could understand that he was not totally evil."

Joan looked thoughtful, remembering a conversation she'd had with God on that very subject at a different time, "He has some light left…" she murmured, "And light is always worth fighting for…"

"What about Hunter's accusation that God has been playing games with us?" asked Luke. "The avatars, the riddles?"

"To quote your own hero, Luke, God is being subtle but not malicious. The universe is too complex for mortals to understand. I have an advantage, being a spirit, but I don't understand everything either. God can't display Himself to you in His essence, but He can show bits and pieces of Himself -- to you, they appear as different kinds of humans. As for the riddles, it is difficult to explain a concept in words. The best God can do is arouse your curiosity, get you to investigate a problem until you understand it to your satisfaction."

"I think I see," said Luke. "But in the future I'm going to set one condition. I'm not going to violate computer ethics unless God convinces me up front that it's justifiable."

"That's between you and God. My work here is done, and we can have some fun. JoJo, I was watching the day you posed for Adam. Nice boobs."

"What!" exclaimed Luke. "Joan, you didn't-- Ithought you said--"

Joan didn't answer. She only turned very red.


	17. Payback Time

**Chapter 17 Payback Time**

_(Author's Note: I would like to thank LostSchizophrenic for making me rewrite the Grace/God scene. The original was pretty bad._

_I also don't have any right to rewrite Stephen Sondheim lyrics. And judging by how long it took me to come up with 4 rhymes in 1 verse, I'm no threat to him anyway)_

On the Wednesday before the homecoming game, Grace and Maggie were walking down the school corridor when they heard female voices singing at the other end. At first Grace thought that they were rehearsing West Side Story, which would be the school musical this winter, but they were giving the famous "America" song quite different words.

Prettiest teen is Elizabeth

Coolest colleen is Elizabeth

Best girl we've seen is Elizabeth

Homecoming Queen is E-li-za-beth!

Grace laughed. "Sounds like Elizabeth Goetzmann has found her theme song. Or stolen it."

"But do you have a theme song?"

"Nope. And a name like 'Grace Polk' is not very musical anyway."

"You do not seem to have done much to compete."

"No. There's not much point. Elizabeth has--"

A boy suddenly grabbed Grace's biology textbook out of her arms, and ran.

"Hey! Come back here." Grace took off after him, quite forgetting Maggie.

She chased him down a couple of corridors and through some outer doors near the lunchroom. She found herself in a little alley between the main school and the gym, mainly occupied by some smelly dumpsters. Joan had been here once, looking for a poem in the dumpster, but few other students came here, for obvious reasons.

The thief threw the book at Grace's feet. "You want it? Pick it up."

Mystified, Grace bent down to pick up the book. The instant that she straightened up again, somebody seized her arms from behind. And suddenly the thief looked familiar.

"Recognize me? You kicked me in the balls, the first day of school. Now it's payback time, bitch. Since you're a girl, you don't have any balls. But since you're a girl, you probably care about that pretty face of yours. So--

He socked her in the face. Then again--…

-----

Grace's memory of the next hour was hazy, perhaps because one of the blows came near to knocking her out. When her mind cleared, she was lying down in the school infirmary, and the school nurse was applying ice to her bruises. Behind the nurse she could spot Joan and Luke, looking worried.

"I'm going to kill him," said Luke determinedly.

Grace found her voice, but her swollen lips wouldn't quite cooperate. "Don' try. He'll bwobably kill you inzdead."

"Maybe we can talk Dad into throwing the bully in jail," suggested Joan.

"I want to do something constructive," said Luke with frustration, "or destructive, in this case."

"Id'z the thoughd thad counts, dude," Grace reassured him. "Whad habbened?"

"Maggie followed you through the halls," explained Joan. "When she saw the boys beating you up, she rushed inside again and yelled for help. The boys got caught red-handed."

As if on cue, Grace could hear Price's voice say: "She's more coherent now? Good, I need her story." He walked in. "I need some time with Miss Polk."

Joan and Luke left dutifully, and Price went on. "Miss Polk, could you give us your account of the incident?"

Grace tried, as much as she could remember of it. The swollen lips made long speeches painful. Price was not interested in her feelings anyway, just cold facts. From hie point of view this was an Incident, something that could get the school sued if not handled properly.

"The boys responsible will be expelled."

Grace heard that with a curious apathy, the same that she had felt when her friends discussed how to punish her attackers. In her view she wasn't the victim of a bully who could be punished. She had had an encounter with Evil. It wasn't her first encounter by any means, though she had gone for several months without one. Evil was back in her life.

The nurse came back after Price's departure, and made another examination. "Swelling's down, nothing broken. But I'm afraid the bruises will show for a few days, including a pair of black eyes."

"Great."

"I'll keep you under observation for the rest of the school day, and I think you should get a friend to drive you home afterward. Don't strain yourself, and don't go home alone."

Joan eventually drove her home. Grace put off any attempt at conversation and Joan accepted the silence. Grace's mother, when they got home, was outraged at the sight of her face. Remembering that any strong shock had the potential of sending Mrs. Polonski back to drink, Grace asked her to leave her alone in her room.

Grace had a bathroom of her own, off of her bedroom. After checking herself in the mirror, and seeing just how badly her face had been bruised, Grace lay down, thinking black thoughts.

She had been stupid. For several weeks she had thought that, if she only redid herself to look more attractive, the world would follow suit. It had all been an illusion. The world was full of crap, and she had stepped in it. Evil had defeated her by inverting her own plan. _Do you think you can make yourself beautiful, Graceful One? I can make you ugly_.

Grace's mother knocked at the bedroom door, and came in. "The Figliola girl wants to see you, Grace. You know, the one that -- " she brushed her stomach.

"That's still supposed to be secret, Mom. But yeah, I'll see her." Grace really didn't care one way or another.

Glynis came in, with a large flat box under her arm. To conceal her bulging abdomen, she was wearing a loose un-Glynis-like smock that would probably arouse anyone's suspicions, if anybody ever paid attention to Glynis. Grace estimated that Glynis's story would come out at school within a week.

"I heard the terrible news," Glynis said. "But what are you going to do about the Homecoming Queen contest?" The disconnect between the two thoughts seemed typical of Glynis' habit of talking in spurts.

"I hadn't even thought of it. Pull out, I guess. The contest is a farce in the first place. And I'm supposed to go around with two black eyes and say 'Elizabeth is wrong, I'm really the prettiest girl in school'?"

"Well, I had an idea. I figured, you aren't the sort of girl that keeps makeup around," Glynis said. "So I brought this. It's from that stupid cosmetics course two years ago. It's been sitting in my attic ever since."

"Um, thanks, Glynis."

"If you feel like standing up and going into the bathroom, I can show you how to apply the makeup."

They went in and got into the kit. Even after two years of oblivion Glynis remembered how to use everything and explained it well; that was the way her mind worked. But eventually the pregnant girl had to interrupt the lesson, saying she needed to pee. Grace left the bathroom to allow her privacy, and thought over Glynis' idea. A nice gesture, but the whole symbolism was wrong: trying to cosmeticise an ugly reality. It wasn't Grace's way of doing things.

And so when Glynis came out, Grace thanked her but cut the lesson short, saying that she was tired and aching. Glynis insisted on leaving the makeup box behind as Grace saw her out. "There's an instructional video if you have any questions."

Grace decided to try the video, not so much because she was interested as because she wanted to drive away the black thoughts. She told her mother (it was years since she had asked permission for things) that she wanted the rec-room's DVD/VCR in privacy. But the instructor's opening was so phony and smarmy -- "Welcome, girls, to the World of Beauty!" -- that Grace reached to turn it off again.

"Don't do that, Grace," said the instructor in a different tone of voice, "I can restore beauty to your soul."

Video God? Grace hoped that her mother would not hear her addressing the VCR.

"I can think of a couple of people whose souls need to be run through a wringer."

"But yours is more delicate. At the moment you think mankind is basically evil. But you're wrong. Mankind has free will and can choose between good and evil. Yes, your bully chose a deeper evil than many, causing you not only pain but humiliation. But Glynis tried to help you, even with her own life in crisis. A year ago, Luke stuck by you even when you tried to send him away. They could choose good, and did."

"But what does it matter? The evil people can just beat everybody else up. I used to think that I could fight back, I could do something about it, but, obviously, I was wrong," she replied sharply.

"But it doesn't stop there. Will you let yourself be defeated? If you hide yourself, feeling yourself humiliated, then the bully has won. But the disgrace should attach itself to the evildoer, not the victim. Live your life as if the bullies never blighted it."

"Are you saying that I should stay in the Homecoming contest?"

"Yes."

"But it's such a trivial way of fighting evil. As Price said, goodness has nothing to do with it."

"Rituals are symbolic, and can have amazing power."

"Are you going to heal my bruises before I go before hundreds of people Saturday night?

"No. They're already healing, and I don't like interfering with a natural process. I'm here to heal your soul. As for the skin, avail yourself of Glynis' gift." Her expression abruptly changed and went insipid again. "And now, girls, let's talk about beauty spots."

Grace gave a disgusted sigh and flipped off the offending piece of technology. Later, she replayed the tape and found no sign of God's conversation with her.

Meanwhile, as often happened with Joan, she was stuck with a simple but incomprehensible task.


	18. Long Live the Queen

**Chapter 18 Long Live the Queen**

_Whoever would have expected that I would be doing this? Going to a stupid sports event when I could be attending a decent anarchists' meeting. Actually standing on the football field, making a spectacle of myself, in a contest that I know I'll lose. And in a dress!_

_My boobs are freezing. Whoever thought that decolletage was decent clothing in mid-November? Some male who likes looking at cleavage, I bet._

_At least the swelling's gone, and between distance and Glynis' makeup, nobody can see the bruises._

Luke was standing at her side, his arm linked in hers. To their right, at ten-yard intervals, were Elizabeth and Ashley, each with her own escort.

"And now," came Price's voice over the loudspeaker, "the moment we've all been waiting for --"

_I'm waiting for it all right. So I can get the hell out of here once it's over._

There was some rustling of paper over the intercom. "And the winner of the 2005 Homecoming Queen contest is -- " and Price stopped. At the moment Grace thought he was increasing the suspense. Later she realized that he had actually been stunned speechless on opening the envelope.

"The winner is Grace Polk!"

The crowd made a confused roar.

_This can't be happening. It's a dream, a nightmare. If I tune it out, maybe I can wake up by sheer willpower._

Luke was tugging at her arm. "Grace! You need to turn around with me. And try to live up to your names and be graceful about it."

He backed up, rotating her around. From the opposite sideline a float was approaching, decorated with Arcadia High's Eagle mascot. It was pulled by a pair of horses from the Begh estate, and the professor himself was driving them, clad in a colorful costume that was probably derived from the Ottoman Empire. The school band was playing Beethoven's Turkish March. Grace thought it looked very picturesque, though she also reflected that if the horses happened to leave their end products on the field, the football teams would not be very happy.

The horses brought the float next to Grace. Professor Begh climbed down and helped Grace climb to the top -- help she might have resented were it not for the fact that she was worried about tripping on her ankle-length skirt. After helping Luke up as well, the Professor walked to the horses and led them the rest of the way by the bridles, having apparently calculated that the float might not hold three people.

Ms. Lischak was standing at the sidelines, in a dazzling costume of her own. As Elizabeth, Ashley, and their escorts lined up with Luke, the teacher placed the tiarra on her Grace's head. The audience, having by now absorbed the unusual choice, cheered. A Queen was a Queen after all.

After the noise had died down a bit, a girl walked up with a fancy camera. "Hi. I'd like to take pictures of you for the yearbook -- all three of you."

"OK, but I need to redo my makeup first," said Grace. It sounded like a reasonable request, but Grace's makeup was hiding black eyes.

"So do I," said Elizabeth. "I'll come with you."

"_I_ don't need makeup," huffed Ashley. Nobody paid much attention.

Grace and Elizabeth retrieved their purses and went to the nearest ladies' room. Grace was wondering what on Earth was going through the losing girl's mind. Was she planning to strangle Grace?

Inside, Elizabeth commented: "We'll use my makeup kit; it's an actress's kit, with a lot more variety."

Grace decided to be direct. "Elizabeth, I don't know what happened. You were a shoo-in to win."

"What happened," stated Elizabeth as she examined Grace's eye, "was that I Emailed everybody in my address book Thursday, asking them to switch their votes to you. And I have a BIG address book."

"But why?" protested Grace.

"Because Price was wrong, at the very beginning. Goodness SHOULD have something to do with it. You got beat up because, two months ago, you protected a Muslim girl from bullies, and saved the honor of the whole school. I haven't done anything comparable. You deserve the Queenship, Grace. And it isn't as if I lack attention. I'm starring in WEST SIDE STORY in January, anyway."

"Still, thank you. Look, my boyfriend's birthday party is tonight. I'd like you to come."

"Um, I have no time to prepare a present --"

"You made him the HomeComing Queen's escort. That's enough for a present."

"I'll come then -- there! Check yourself in the mirror. I don't think the camera will pick up the damage. Future people looking at the annual won't ever know there was anything amiss."

There was a certain amount of double-think in Elizabeth's attitude: Grace's injuries were both a source of pride and something to be hidden. But Grace was too happy to criticize Elizabeth.

Video God had been right, and everything had turned out. It wasn't just a matter of Grace vs Evil with some friends on the side. By staying in the contest Grace had given the student body a chance to vote their convictions, and they had voted for substance. The Queenship wasn't just some empty ritual; the Queen represented the community's ideal, a girl who had protected other people.

Buoyed up with happiness, Grace decided to proceed with a daring plan that she had conceived for tonight. To start with, she had to stop at a pharmacy ---

_(Author's Note: Credit to LostSchizophrenic for suggesting Grace as the surprise Homecoming Queen. The events that led up to it were my invention)_


	19. Happy Birthday, Luke

**Chapter 19 Happy Birthday, Luke**

_(Author's Note: This time the musical lyrics are the original ones, and of course I'm quoting them without permission)_

The birthday party was a big difference from the previous year's fiasco, which Joan and Grace had had to salvage. Everybody was there: Luke's parents, Kevin and Lily, even the cousins whom Luke had visited in North Carolina in the past summer. On the school side, there were Grace, Adam, Friedmann, Glynis, Maggie, and Elizabeth Groetzmman.

And Cute Boy God.

Joan was curious that neither Grace nor Luke seemed to have spotted Him, and nobody else in the family or friends seemed to wonder why He was there. He must be using that ability to deflect the attention of people that He didn't want to deal with. Which meant that He was here for Joan.

Joan reluctantly made her way across the Girardi living room. "Please don't tell me you've got another mission for us. It's been a busy fall. I'm worried about the Law paper, particularly since I had to fake the interview with the prisoner."

"No worry, Joan. I'm here to honor a friend on his birthday. And to advise how to fulfill your current mission."

"Fulfill?"

"Glynis is resigned to the possibility that Friedmann won't help her. She will announce her condition tonight, and start making plans for bearing her child alone. So this is your last chance to appeal to Friedman."

"We've been trying to talk to him all fall."

"Yes -- by appealing to his sense of duty, which is unfortunately weak in Friedmann. Tell me, from what you have seen this fall, what is the most powerful force shaping people's lives?"

Joan thought about it. After a minute, she said "Friendship. Grace and Luke and me. Grace and Maggie. Even the Reynolds cousins."

"Exactly. And, by the way, you will get an A on your paper." And with that curt phrase, Cute Boy God retreated toward the door with His characteristic wave.

"Wait!" Joan said, dashing up to Him and whispering, to avoid being overheard. "As a guest, shouldn't you have a gift for Luke?"

"I did, but I'll make it more explicit." He raised His hand, and it occurred to Joan that the characteristic wave might be a sort of blessing. 'May Lukas Girardi receive his fondest desire tonight'."

_So God doesn't resent Luke's drawing the line about violating computer ethics. He still gives His blessing. Good. But I wonder what the desire is?_

After that, Joan kept an eye on Friedmann. When he went up the stairs, presumably to use the bathroom, Joan counted to twenty and then followed him. He didn't see her coming up behind him. But when he came out of the room, Joan planted herself at the top of the stairs and blocked his way. "Friedmann, we need to talk."

"If this is about Glynis again--" he said, bored.

"No, it isn't about Glynis, it's about you. In fact, Glynis doesn't need you."

Joan noticed that he was shook by that dismissal. Good.

"When is the last time you made a friend, Friedmann?" Joan demanded.

"Um, Judith."

"A year ago. And you had to memorize HAMLET to get her attention. You met Luke and me two years ago, probably Adam and Grace at the same time. The only friendship I know of that's longer is with Glynis. Now you're actively pushing Glynis away, and Judith is dead, and you're alienating the rest of us. Who does that leave?"

"When I get to college--

"Yeah, you think you'll win new friends when you get to college," mimicked Joan. "Since you were so successful at that in high school. You'll make, what, one new friend every six months?" The math did not sound right -- Joan was too determined to stop and work it out -- so she pressed forward. "And how long will you hold on to them, if you treat them like you're treating your current ones? As high-schoolers we can sometimes get away with rotten behavior. In college your friends may judge you more strictly."

Friedmann seemed intimidated into silence.

"You've got a girl who loves you so much that she devoted the summer to helping you with your drug problem, and compromised herself in the process. You can have her, or you can have no one. Take your choice. But better choose before she commits herself to living without you." Joan stepped aside. "_Now_ you can go downstairs."

She watched him go down and breathed a sigh that she gotten the speech out. Once again she counted out a delay, then followed Friedmann down.

Elizabeth had seated herself at the piano was belting out Broadway songs. One wasan old Rodgers & Hammerstein song which, she said, was particularly appropriate for Grace:

_Don't throw bouquets at me._

_Don't please my folks too much._

_Don't laugh at my jokes too much._

_People will say we're in love!_

That got a laugh from everybody who knew about Luke's long-drawn-out wooing, including Grace herself. Elizabeth followed up with "Tonight, tonight!" which she was rehearsing for her January musical. If the romantic lyrics also had some relation to Luke and Grace, she didn't explicitly say so. Elizabeth was rather an attention-getter, but most of the people present knew how she had sacrificed the Homecoming contest and didn't mind.

"Hey! People! We have an announcement to make!"

That was Friedmann, standing at the back door with his arm around Glynis. Apparently they had slipped out to talk in the back yard, and nobody had noticed.

"Glynis and I are getting married!"

That got a lot of applause -- polite from people like Maggie, Lily, and the cousins; enthusiastic from those who knew about Glynis.

"And we're having a baby!" gushed Glynis, pressing her hand against her stomach to make her condition clear for the first time. "I'm afraid it'll be a little early--"

"Because the father was late!" said Friedmann. "But he won't be from now on."

"_Mazel tov_!" shouted Grace.

"_Mazel tov_!" echoed the partygoers.

Friedmann looked around the audience, and was apparently gratified by their reaction. On spotting Joan he winked, to her relief. So he didn't blame her for that harangue upstairs, but realized the truth of it.

"I'm afraid that you're being upstaged at your own party, Luke." said Elizabeth, who happened to be standing near Luke and Joan during the announcements.

"I don't care," said Luke. "The good news is like an additional gift to me."

Joan surveyed the gifts on the table. Preserves, brought by the cousins from their farm. A book called Sports for Dummies, a gag gift from Kevin, who knew Luke was no dummy. A handcrafted wallet from Istanbul, from Maggie. Some science-fiction DVDs from Friedmann.

"And what's this from you, Grace?" Joan asked, picking up a book as her friend walked up. "Scientific Revolutionaries. Figures."

"That's only part of it," said Grace. "I'm going to give Luke another gift later tonight."

"What is it?"

"It's secret. Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow."

Joan knew that she would not be able to worm the secret out of her friend. It didn't matter. Observing the smiling Luke, Joan knew that last year's miserable memory was erased. This was the best birthday that Luke had ever had.


	20. Bed Time

**Chapter 20 Bed Time**

"Psst. Luke!" Grace's voice.

"Huh?" he said groggily, having been awoken from a sound sleep after a very busy day. Grace was supposed to be in Kevin's old room--

"I've got another birthday present for you, the most important one you'll get today."

Luke groped for his glasses, then turned on the bedside lamp. Grace was standing by his bed in pajamas, holding a little white bag in her hand. Still half-asleep, he focussed on the bag. "That's the present?"

"No, dork. The present is ME -- if you want me."

"Whulp!" It took a few seconds for the drowsy Luke to realize what Grace meant, but when he did, he snapped completely awake. "But I've just turned seventeen."

"Yeah, I did wait until that. But you're a lot more mature then any other seventeen-year-old I know. I wouldn't be offering otherwise."

"I can't do it, Grace. I don't want you to end up like Glynis or Bonnie, with your dreams nearly derailed by a baby."

"Neither do I. I brought protection." She jiggled the white bag impatiently. The 'I'm a present' line had obviously been her joke; she was eager for this consummation, and on equal terms. "Now, if those were your only objections, let's get down to business. My, uh, thing broke this summer while I was horseback-riding, so we can strike that off our list." She started unbuttoning her pajama top.

"Business? List? Do you have to be so clinical? I love you, Grace."

She softened. "I love you, Luke. This isn't just about wanting sex. I've stayed a virgin up to now, and you're the only boy I'd consider doing this with."

"And you're the only girl--."

"Then let's get down to -- love."

-----------

"Oh my God!" Joan's voice screeched.

For the second time tonight, Luke was jerked out of an exhausted sleep. But between those two had been the most blissful experience of his life.

The lights were on this time, but without his glasses they weren't much help. When he got them on, he found himself staring at Joan, Mom, and Dad, who were in turn staring at Grace's presence in his bed. And he was probably lucky that one of the God avatars didn't show up in response to Joan's invocation.

"Um, what are you guys doing here?" he asked lamely.

"I heard Grace's voice call out," said Joan. "I thought she might be in trouble, and I couldn't find her, so I got Mom and Dad."

"That cry was, um, unintentional," mumbled Grace, who was burrowing under the bedcovers. There were few things that could intimidate Grace, but getting caught naked by three Girardis was one of them. Fortunately the lovers' twists and turns had eventually landed her on the far side of the bed.

Luke tried to distract attention from his girl by presenting their rationalizations. He was seventeen and more mature than most -- they were using protection --love--.

"Luke," began his mother, "when two people love each other very much--"

"Mom, don't you think it's rather late for the Sex Lecture?" observed Joan.

"It IS late," grumbled Will. "1:30 in the morning, to be precise. Luke, we are going to have a long talk tomorrow. Until then--"

He hesitated. Everybody stared at him, wandering how he would handle the situation.

"Oh, hell, just go back to what you were doing."

The family filed out. Joan was last; she looked at the lovers, rolled up her eyes, and closed the door behind her.

"That was embarrassing," mumbled Luke.

"Yeah," said Grace. "But at least we're awake, and still in bed together, and you're still wearing our 'protection', and I'm not wearing anything. Why not take advantage? Because my parents are going to go ballistic when they find out I've lost my virginity. And to a goy!"

Luke had his own ideas about that. He'd have to wait another year, until he was eighteen. But one day he'd go to the rabbi, and tell him openly how much he loved the man's daughter. He'd even go through a conversion to his beloved's faith, if that's what it took to solve the goy problem. Someday, the wild, fascinating girl in bed with him would be his wife.

It might not be the Divine Plan, but it would be Luke's.

THE END


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